


The Viability Assessment

by RedSpyWriter



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Slow Build, Social Services, Tailoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24631468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSpyWriter/pseuds/RedSpyWriter
Summary: Eggsy has just started a new job at Kingsman Tailor’s, which he’s no idea how he managed to land, when he’s asked by social services to look after his baby sister because otherwise she’ll be put into care. The next few months see Eggsy juggling a full time job, full time responsibility for his sister, and on top of it all a growing attraction to his much older,maleboss. Are any of those things really viable in the long-term?
Relationships: Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Comments: 149
Kudos: 434





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You will only need a passing knowledge of the films to understand this, as it is very much AU. It is a WIP, and is planned to the end but I warn you that there is a chance I might get distracted and not finish it, as it’s looking to be quite long. I will be trying my best with information about tailoring and London, but please forgive me if you notice any glaring inaccuracies; attempt to imagine they’re part of the AU…
> 
> The process that Eggsy goes through in this fic is very much one possible version of how events can pan out in these situations. It varies wildly from local authority to local authority, and indeed within them. I am sticking as close as possible to reality (including when the timescales and decisions might seem strange, as they often are) but as I say, this is just one version. I have never worked for Southwark Council so I can’t attest as to their child protection or child in care practices.

Harry Hart looked up as the bell on his shop door tinkled gently. To a customer, it would appear he had looked up from some paperwork, order forms and the like. To anyone who looked over the counter, it would be apparent he was actually looking up from _The Times_. It was important to Harry to project a professional image, but that didn’t mean it had to become one’s whole being.

The young man that came through the door clearly was not of the same mindset vis-à-vis a professional image. Harry might have thought he were lost, except for the quick, sweeping look he gave around the shop before making his way confidently to the desk. Harry was suddenly and alarmingly distracted from the young man’s terrible and unflattering clothing by a smile that changed his whole appearance.

“Hi,” the young man said, still smiling. “I saw in the window, you’re looking for an assistant?”

His confidence had clearly wavered a little with the way he turned the statement into a question, but Harry could see why. He would not pick this young man out of a line-up if asked to guess a tailor’s assistant. Assistant in petty crime, perhaps, he thought, and then chided himself for being so uncharitable.

Harry smiled politely before the short silence became awkward. “I am indeed,” he said. “Are you interested in the position?”

The young man hesitated just barely before nodding and saying, “Yeah, yeah.” His eyes did another quick sweep of the shop, taking in racks of jackets and trousers and shelves of belts and shoes. They settled back on Harry, before Harry really had the time to appreciate how gorgeous they were. The young man took a half-step back and extracted a document from a pile in his hand, passing it to Harry. “Here’s my CV.” He grinned. “Call me, yeah?”

The immediate response that came to mind was, “ _Absolutely_ ,” but he knew damn well that their flirting came from very different places, and this was a professional encounter. Or a semi-professional encounter, at any rate. A professional encounter would have involved a radical change on the young man’s part as well as Harry presenting him with an application form. Therefore, instead, Harry smiled politely again, inclined his head and said, “Thank you. I’ll have a look at it.”

The man’s grin slid for a half-second, that lack of confidence showing again, before he gathered himself together, said, “Thanks mate – er – sir?” before simply nodding and hurrying out of the shop.

Harry watched him go and fought to keep his face impassive while his insides melted briefly into a puddle of goo.

He agonised for at least thirty seconds over whether to read the CV now, giving in to his curiosity but no doubt immediately dashing the dream that the young man might possibly be a suitable employee, or to wait until later and allow himself the daydream. The choice, however, was taken from him as a customer entered, and Harry placed the CV carefully under _The Times_ before greeting the vaguely familiar man and setting about the very familiar process of measuring him.

In the end, work took precedence, and it wasn’t until close to the end of the day that Harry got a moment to peruse the young man’s CV. Having prepared himself for disappointment, he was pleasantly surprised to discover instead a more intriguing mix of almost entirely accurate spelling and grammar, A grades at GCSE in both English Literature and Double Award Science (whatever that meant) yet Cs or Ds in all other subjects, and an employment record that included a single month at Pizza Hut and six months in Royal Marines basic training. The cited reason for leaving was a vague, “Family issues.”

Harry prided himself on being a professional, but he’d never said he was entirely sensible. Even the most well put-together were prone to moments of weakness at times.

He’d had three other applications so far, all more suited to the role of a tailor’s assistant, and yet Harry could see, this young man – Gary Unwin – had potential. He would also, not inconsequentially, look absolutely striking in a properly tailored suit. Harry felt he would be quite happy to take on the more demanding role of training him up, if it meant he was able to look at him every day. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe it would go any further than that, but at the age of fifty-two, that was – quite tragically – enough.

* * * * *

Eggsy Unwin arrived for the first day at his new job half-convinced he was going to be told it was all a joke. He knew posh types could be sick like that sometimes, putting people like him down just to get their rocks off, but he _hoped_ he was right that from the brief interactions with the boss he’d had that he wasn’t that kind of bloke. Still, it was too early to tell.

He hadn’t really meant to end up on Savile Row, or anywhere similar. It was just that after a few weeks of traipsing round the shops and food outlets that were the kind he’d normally go to himself, things had started to get a bit desperate.

He’d realised a few years ago that online applications weren’t for him. Him on paper didn’t look too good, whereas at least him in person made an impression. It might not be the impression the place was looking for, but they’d remember him, and sometimes that was all it took. Eggsy might not have had the patience to deal with most of his bullshit teachers long enough to get the marks he was capable of – “Could try harder” was a phrase he was sick of by halfway through year seven – but he did have charm, and sometimes getting fed and staying warm meant using it, even if sometimes it made him feel like a whore.

Even so, he could only keep it up for so long. That was the reason why he was here, instead of listening to Martin tell him for the fifteenth time in a monotone why it was _imperative_ to clean your tools thoroughly, like Eggsy planned on just pouring gravel into an engine and then smearing it in jam for good measure.

There was the time he tried to wank off on the side of Martin’s car, before Seamus turned up early for the first time in his life and Eggsy had to hastily stuff himself back inside, but that was deliberate sabotage rather than just being the careless dickhead Martin thought he was.

He supposed being precise and paying attention to detail was pretty important for a tailor, but he hoped posh bloke wasn’t going to come at it from the same angle as Martin. Otherwise he didn’t think he’d last the week.

Eggsy put his game face on and stepped inside.

Or rather, he tried to, but the door was locked. He paused for a second, frowning, thinking it really _was_ a prank, but then the boss – Harry – Mr Hart? – appeared on the other side and held up a hand before unlocking the door.

“My apologies,” the boss said as he opened the door and Eggsy stepped in. “I usually keep the door locked until 9am precisely. I should have let you know.”

“No problem,” Eggsy said, shaking it off now he knew it wasn’t on purpose.

The boss gave him a proper look up and down, deliberate, and Eggsy found himself standing to attention before he even started to feel a bit weird.

“Hm. Fifteen and a half, forty-one, thirty-three?”

“What?” said Eggsy, aware of how stupid that sounded even as it left his mouth, but too late to do anything about it.

“Neck, chest, waist.” Eggsy felt like a moron as the boss continued, “Your measurements?”

“Er…I don’t know.” He almost bit the end of the sentence off trying not to say ‘bruv’. It felt like something was missing, but he knew for sure it wouldn’t be welcome here.

The boss gave a tiny little frown, and then it was gone. “All right. We’ll do your measurements properly later, that can be a lesson in itself, but for now let’s just try you in something off the rack. That will do for the time being.”

He started to walk towards the back of the shop, stopping at a rack of what looked like identical grey jackets on top and trousers below. Eggsy followed. “Wait, you want me to –” The bloke was pushing the jackets along the rail, seemingly looking for something in particular, though Eggsy couldn’t see any differences. It gave him a second to collect his thoughts. “You want me to put on a suit?”

The boss paused and looked at him, and Eggsy tried to stand tall while simultaneously imagining how he looked in this bloke’s eyes. He’d scrubbed up as best he could, white shirt, proper trousers, a belt, even proper shoes – the ones from the prom he didn’t go to – though no jacket, since it was forecast to be another baking hot day. He’d borrowed an honest-to-God satchel from Carly – well, her brother really – since he knew this getup didn’t go with a backpack. He was looking as smart as he ever had, but he knew he weren’t no Savile Row gent.

“Part of our job is to project a certain image,” the boss said. “If a customer sees us wearing anything other than our own clothing, they’ll wonder why they buy from us.”

Eggsy nodded, since that made sense, but then immediately a horrible thought came to him. “I ain’t,” he caught himself, floundered, pressed on, “I ain’t able to afford this.” He kept his eyes squarely on the boss’s as he said it, daring him to look down on him for it.

The boss didn’t even react. “Consider it a uniform,” he said, then turned back to the rack and, after leafing through a couple more jackets, pulled one out and handed it to Eggsy. “Try that one.”

Eggsy put it on.

They spent the next fifteen minutes moving around the shop, sourcing – apart from the suit – a new shirt, belt, even shoes. The boss paused by the rack of braces, where Eggsy couldn’t hide his look of disbelief before the man smiled and moved on. By the time the shop opened, Eggsy felt like he was dressed ready to play a part in some production. This was apt, really, since he hadn’t got a clue what he was supposed to be doing and would be making it all up as he went along.

He’d have thought looking the part might make him feel less nervous, but when the bell over the door jangled just a few minutes after opening, his heart rate rocketed. He realised that the suit made it look like he knew what he was doing, whereas with his own clothes at least people would take one look at him and know he didn’t, and therefore not expect anything of him. Despite the boss not actually measuring him, everything fit better than any clothes he’d worn before, and he knew it looked good.

Luckily for him, the bloke who came in, a tall guy maybe a few years older than Eggsy, headed straight for the desk, nodding vaguely at Eggsy as he passed.

“Late again, Amos,” the boss said, though not sounding really that put out by it. He was going through some papers on the desk and Eggsy hoped he was going to give him some direction soon.

“Yes, Harry,” said Amos in some kind of African accent, disappearing into the back room, throwing a backpack down on the floor and then coming back out, “but I will work twice as hard for the moments I have missed.”

Eggsy noted the use of the boss’s first name as Amos made eye contact with him and smiled. He caught Harry shaking his head, and smiled himself.

“Gary, this is Amos,” Harry said before either of them could greet each other. “You should watch him closely in some areas, such as cutting and choosing complimentary fabrics, and ignore him entirely in others, such as timekeeping.”

“Harry and Gary?” Amos said, his gaze going from Eggsy to the boss. “I’m feeling a little left out.”

“Uh, actually,” Eggsy broke in before that could go any further, “everyone calls me Eggsy. I mean – everyone.”

Amos had turned to look at him as he spoke, but when he'd finished he swung almost comically back towards Harry. Eggsy really hoped this wasn’t going to be the thing that broke it. So far – even though it was only half an hour – he was starting to like this place, but his name wasn’t something he was willing to give up on, not even for a sweet deal.

There was a pause, and then Harry said, “Does that suit you better, Amos?”

Amos grinned and nodded.

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of new information. Eggsy barely had time to take any of it in; even during his lunch break Amos decided it was a good time to test him on all the unfamiliar terms he’d heard so far that morning. Eggsy thought he did pretty well, considering. Quite aside from all the tailoring information, though, was the whole _culture_ that seemed to come with tailoring. Harry seemed to be the same man whether or not a customer was in the shop, but Amos turned it on and off like a switch, going from relaxed and companionable to formal and almost cool in a heartbeat. It was a bit weird to see at first, but the customers seemed to react well to it, and he _knew_ he caught some of them taking side-eye glances at him, even when he wasn’t doing anything near them, like they could see right through his fancy clothes to his lower-class skin. It made him bristle, but he could hardly invite them to start something.

It was in the afternoon that he got to see his first fitting. A man came in, probably even younger than Eggsy, and greeted both Harry and Amos by name. When he looked at Eggsy expectantly, Harry said, “My new assistant, Eggsy,” and the bloke didn’t miss a beat, reaching his hand out for Eggsy to shake it. Eggsy did, a bit bemused.

He got the sense that Harry had decided specifically for him to see this fitting since the man was a lot more casual. Even so, he was clearly loaded; Harry told him they were doing a first fitting for his fifth bespoke suit.

Eggsy spent the first minute or so trying to watch without looking like he was watching, because there was something very odd about standing in a small room with two other men while one of them was standing very close to the other and touching them all over, even if it wasn’t meant to be sexual. However, Harry glanced up and seemed to somehow just get it, because then he started saying, “Now see here, Eggsy, notice this?” or, “I put my thumb here, just so,” when he made any movements, explicitly inviting Eggsy to look, and that made it easier.

The one part he did have more trouble with was when Harry knelt down and held up the tape; there was a short pause and then the man – Mr Lewis – said, “Oh! Sorry. To the right, today,” then Eggsy had to process both Harry putting his hands _very_ close to the left side of this guy’s crotch and the guy grinning straight at Eggsy and saying, “I switch sides depending on my underwear. Must be ever so frustrating for a tailor.”

“Not at all,” Harry muttered, while Eggsy fought to bring his eyebrow raise back into a polite smile instead.

He thought he’d got away with it, but after Mr Lewis had left Harry pinned him in place with a stare Eggsy was beginning to get very familiar with and said, “We’ll teach you how to measure in the most dignified way, but the job does involve getting quite close and personal with our customers. Do you think you can manage that?”

Eggsy couldn’t say anything else other than, “Yeah, course.”

A moment passed before Harry smiled and said, “Good,” then turned away like either of them believed Eggsy was absolutely fine with that.

Well. He’d done lots of weird and uncomfortable shit in his life so far; how hard could this be?

The moment the thought finished he envisioned that exact situation, a customer being _excited_ during the measuring, and just about held back a groan. Maybe he could ask Amos if that ever happened; he certainly couldn’t visualise asking Harry.

* * * * *

Two weeks in to his new hire, and Harry was simultaneously pleased and exasperated with himself. Eggsy was, to his credit, doing better than Harry could have hoped. The boy was a quick learner, which had been his guess but not a given, and he was motivated, at least by the thought of a pay cheque if nothing else. However, it was very apparent that he had so _much_ to learn. Harry hadn’t really thought he was that out of touch with ‘the real world’, despite his business and his very comfortable existence, given that in London one rubbed shoulders with all sorts. It was becoming clear to him though that some finer details were very much missing – or rather, different – in Eggsy’s world in comparison to his.

Even things he had thought fairly rudimentary, such as a decent handshake, had to be taught. Still, he couldn’t lie that for the original reason he’d been minded to offer Eggsy a job – the young man’s charm and beauty – things were still working out rather well. Even when Harry had to spend twenty minutes explaining the appropriate greeting for the time of day, circumstance and so forth, it was a pleasure to be in his company.

“I don’t get it,” Eggsy was saying to Amos, as Harry kept half an ear on the conversation and paid the rest of his attention to their diary, which was looking uncomfortably full. “It looks the same, bruv.”

Amos shook his head. “They are not. See this fine stitching?” He held a jacket up to Eggsy’s face, as Eggsy also leaned closer. “You would not wear this to dinner. It is too understated. This, on the other hand,” he held up another jacket, apparently identical to Eggsy but obviously different to Harry and Amos, “has a much more defined pattern. It calls you to notice it.”

Eggsy looked at Amos with a raised eyebrow and said, “No offence bruv, but that’s bollocks.”

Before Harry could – again – delicately pick him up on swearing in the shop, Eggsy caught himself and, with a glance at Harry, corrected, “ _Nonsense_ ,” in a very put-upon imitation of Harry’s own accent. He grinned at Amos, who smiled back, and Harry allowed himself a faint smile at the mockery.

“You will learn to see these small differences,” Amos told him, back to the matter at hand. “It is what sets bespoke pieces apart from off the rack.”

“I ain’t even got my head round-”

One after the other in quick succession, the bell tinkled, Harry looked up and Eggsy cut himself off. Harry kept his gaze on the customer but his attention, from the corner of his eye, on Eggsy. He felt a small sense of pride as Eggsy visibly straightened himself, waited two full seconds and then – as the customer did not immediately approach the desk – stepped over to the man and held his hand out.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Eggsy intoned as though he had been born in an entirely different place to the truth. “My name’s Eggsy. May I offer you any assistance?”

He was getting smoother, Harry noted, in how he deferred matters to Amos or Harry when he didn’t know, which was still very early on in a conversation but it was worthwhile for him to get the basics of approach and engagement first. He had also taken on board the previous day’s lesson about remaining alert and politely interested – from a distance – rather than disengaging entirely and going to do something else, unless there was something specific to be done.

The moment the man left, having purchased a new shirt and arranged a more convenient time to come in and have a fitting for it to be tailored, Eggsy’s shoulders visibly dropped. He ambled back towards Amos. “So what about this one?” he asked, gesturing to a garment.

Harry went back to the diary. Once things were as in hand as they would ever be, he called them over. “Tomorrow. I’ll need you in _on time_ , Amos. We’re starting unspeakably early.” They talked through the fittings, until they got to Mr Draper, at which Amos inhaled noticeably and then groaned softly on the exhale.

Harry smiled. Eggsy looked between the two of them, then at the diary, before he remembered. “Oh, that’s that bloke you were on about the other day? Too long too short? Too black too white?”

“Too wrong too right,” Harry and Amos said in unison, and all three of them laughed.

“Unfortunately, it is he,” Amos confirmed. “I will be using my lunch to pray to the Lord for strength.”

“Now, Amos,” Harry said, “he’s not _that_ bad.” There was a pause as Amos just looked at him, before Harry added, “All right, he’s…trying.”

Eggsy frowned. “He just sounds like a dick.”

Harry’s expression, he hoped, was more of gentle disapproval, but Amos didn’t hide his shock. “Eggsy, that is not polite.”

“But he is,” Eggsy said, frowning deeper. “You said it.”

“Not in so many words.”

“Means the same thing.” Eggsy looked at Harry. “You guys don’t have to pretend for my benefit, you know. I know enough not to call him a dick to his face.”

“We’re not pretending,” Harry said, while Amos looked a little confused. He thought he knew what Eggsy was getting at. “We wouldn’t call him ‘a dick’ regardless of your being here or not.”

“…Why?”

“It’s about being a gentleman,” Harry said, leaning ever-so-slightly on the desk, softening his monologue to a casual chat rather than a lecture. “That doesn’t mean just being courteous where people can hear and see you, it’s about – a state of being. It’s much easier to keep it up if it’s become part of you. And,” he smiled a little, “it’s much more enjoyable to turn it off when you really don’t need it.”

“When you’re alone,” Amos said in a significant tone. Harry glanced at him as he added, “Or with a special someone.”

Eggsy grinned, because he really was still just barely a man, but Harry counted it as a plus that he kept it at that and didn’t add a lewd comment. He was learning.


	2. Chapter 2

Eggsy jumped a little as his phone started buzzing against his chest. It had gone just cool enough again to wear a jacket in the shop, despite being the end of June. He was thankful for it because it gave him the opportunity to carry his phone discreetly. He had no doubt Harry would have been able to spot it in his trousers pocket, but even with the jacket buttoned it wasn’t very obvious in his inside pocket.

His intended defence, when Harry did inevitably notice it, was that Harry hadn’t actually _said_ he couldn’t have it on him. He wasn’t slow to pick up though that he never saw Amos or Harry use theirs except during their lunch breaks, and Harry rarely then.

Eggsy was into his third week at Kingsman, so it wasn’t too suspicious for him to suddenly decide to duck out to the back, unless someone asked what he was going for. Luckily, Amos wasn’t in and Harry paid him no attention, so he was able to answer the call before it dropped.

“’Lo?” he said quietly, at the back of the room where he hoped he was out of earshot.

“Hello – is that Gary Unwin?”

Eggsy frowned. “Uh, yeah.”

“Hello, Mr Unwin. My name is Rochelle Harrison; I’m a social worker for Southwark Council children’s services. I’m calling about your sister?”

“Daisy?” Eggsy said, forgetting to keep his voice down. “Is she okay?”

There was a small pause. “I’m afraid I’m contacting you because your mother has given us your details as someone who might be able to look after your sister, at least on a short-term basis.”

“Wait, my mum? What’s happened to my mum?” Visions of his mum lying in hospital, covered in blood and bruises like those he’d seen too many times before, filled Eggsy’s mind. “Is she in hospital?”

“No, no, your mum’s-“ the social worker cut herself off. “She’s not in hospital. But she has been…hurt. Not badly, but the-”

“It’s that dickhead again, isn’t it,” Eggsy said, not intoning it into a question because it wasn’t when he knew the answer. “Dean.”

“There has been a domestic violence incident, yes,” Rochelle said, as the familiar dual feelings of anger and helplessness built inside Eggsy. “The reason we’re looking for somewhere for your sister to stay is because she has been – we’re worried that she’s been present during more than one incident, and about the effect that has on her.”

Eggsy didn’t say anything, not sure what he _could_ say. He’d worried about the same thing himself, but it would never have crossed his mind to call social services, figuring they’d just take Daisy away and neither he nor his mum would get to see her and know if she was okay. Sounded like someone had made that decision already, though.

“Did your mum – has she told you that we’ve been involved for a little while?” Rochelle asked, after another pause.

“Nah,” Eggsy said. “I talk to her, like…usually a couple of times a week, innit. But sometimes she goes off the grid. She just says everything’s okay even if I know it ain’t.” If he was honest with himself, he’d stopped asking a while ago, too frustrated with hearing the lie repeated.

Rochelle said, “Mm. Well, your sister’s been subject to a Child Protection plan for about a month and a half, and part of the plan was for your mum to remain separated from your – from her partner, Daisy’s father – I understand he’s not your dad?”

“Nah,” Eggsy almost spat. “He’s not my dad.”

“Right,” Rochelle continued smoothly. “So, because there’s been another incident, we need to look at other options for where Daisy can stay that’s safe while we think about the best thing for her in the long term. Would you have capacity to care for her?”

“Absolutely, yeah,” Eggsy said, not even thinking about the question, just hearing that they wanted him to keep Daisy away from that monster. Whatever it took, he would make it work. “Where is she?”

“She’s with one of your mum’s neighbours at the moment, she’s been there overnight,” Rochelle said, and he assumed she meant Deanna, who would often help his mum out. “We’re looking at making an emergency application to Court to ask for a care order for your sister, but if you’re willing to look after her we’d like to assess you to see if you could be that carer, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Eggsy, not sure that it did, but not really caring about the details. “Um. What do I need to do?”

“Could I arrange a time to meet you at your home today?” Rochelle asked. “It might not actually be me depending on what else is going on, unfortunately, because I’m also doing the Court application. But we could take some details from you, do some checks to see if your home is suitable, basically make sure in the very short term that it’s right for Daisy, and then assuming the Order is granted – which you need to be aware, there is a chance it might not be – we’d look to do a fuller assessment after that.”

“You want to meet me today?” Eggsy said, having taken in about half of what she’d said. “Okay, yeah. When?” He tried to remember what kind of state his flat was in, whether he’d cleaned the kitchen last night like he’d meant to or whether he hadn’t been bothered, if he’d put the recycling out since the lads came round on the weekend, and couldn’t remember any of it. Other thoughts shoved in instead, like that he’d need a cot, and Daisy’s clothes, and Dog the stuffed toy, and was she steady enough on her feet now that the glass coffee table wasn’t a problem, or not really?

They arranged for Eggsy to meet someone at his flat in just under two hours’ time, which gave him enough time to get home and clean it as much as he could, and maybe even work out where he was going to get a cot from. Brandon’s stepdad had a van, he might be persuaded to help pick one up from Argos.

It was only when the call ended that Eggsy came back to the world around him, and realised he was still at work, in his fancy job, wearing his ridiculously overpriced suit. The mismatch of the two worlds he occupied was stark.

Well, whatever the fallout, Daisy came first.

He went out to the shop again to find Harry, who thankfully wasn’t with a customer since Eggsy wasn’t sure he could hold on much longer. “Harry,” he said quietly, keeping an eye on the man at the front of the shop looking at belts. “I’m really sorry, I’ve got – a family emergency.” For a second he’d almost explained the whole story, before he realised how ludicrous that would sound to Harry. “I need to go, like, now.” He shifted on his feet. “I’ll make up the time,” he said, even as he thought he had no idea when, since if all went to plan in a few hours he’d be looking after a baby.

“Oh, of course,” Harry said, a tiny frown appearing on his face. “Are you – is your family all right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eggsy brushed it off. “I mean, they will be. I just need to – go help them out. I’ll – call you later?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said. “Do what you need to do and I won’t expect you here until I’ve heard from you again.”

“Thanks bruv,” Eggsy breathed, relieved, then caught himself with a sheepish grin. Harry, obviously realising there were what he would have called _extenuating circumstances_ , just smiled slightly in response and gestured toward the door.

* * * * *

Having received a text late the previous evening letting him know that Eggsy would be in today as expected, Harry wasn’t surprised when his young assistant arrived at 9am, but he had to admit to being a little pleased.

“Mornin’,” Eggsy greeted him, as he did most days.

“Good morning, Eggsy,” Harry responded. “Is everything sorted, with your…family?” He was desperate to know what the emergency had been, but a gentleman didn’t pry.

“Yeah,” Eggsy nodded, not meeting his eyes. “Yeah, it’s all sorted. Thanks, man, for letting me go yesterday. I’ll make it up.”

Harry waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “These things happen. If I don’t expect you to make up time when you’re ill I certainly won’t expect you to make up time for a family emergency.”

“Oh,” Eggsy said, seeming to think about that. “Right.” He went into the back room and came out again in short order. Harry watched him put his shoulders back as he said, “Been a while since I’ve had a job that weren’t just paid by the hour, you know?” and Harry realised it was _that_ again, that class divide. Despite Eggsy’s apparently unconscious defensive position, he fancied the moments were becoming less challenging for both of them.

“Of course,” he said, acknowledging the comment without actually giving an opinion, and was pleased when Eggsy shook it off.

The rest of the morning went much as usual, although Harry noticed that Eggsy remained distracted to some extent. At one point he began to sew a button onto the bottom of a trouser leg rather than a sleeve, until Amos stopped him, at which point he apologised profusely and became flustered. Despite that, even after the very minor mishap had been dealt with, he still later threaded a machine with the wrong shade of blue twice in a row.

Harry wondered briefly at lunchtime about his intended plan, considering whether it might throw Eggsy even more off course, but decided eventually that it might just as well improve things for the boy.

“Eggsy,” Harry said, when the man failed to notice that Amos had finished his break and had returned to the shop floor. Eggsy looked up from his critical studying of the sewing he’d just completed. “It’s one o clock.”

“Oh,” said Eggsy. “Right.” He frowned again at the garment, then dumped it unceremoniously to one side. Harry held his tongue, given that it was only a test piece.

He took the chance just as Eggsy went to grab his bag. “Actually…” He waited until Eggsy was looking at him, expectant. “I wondered if you might care to join me for lunch. I’ve got some leftover red pepper and strawberry soup – nothing special, of course, but enough for two, and I noticed you always seem to eat the same thing… I wondered if a little variety might be pleasant? Of course, now that I think of it, it might just be that you entirely prefer the same thing, in which case, you’re more than welcome to turn me down.”

Eggsy stared at him, understandably, as Harry fought the urge to fidget or look away in embarrassment. It had been a while since his words had run away with him like that.

“Uh…” said Eggsy. “Strawberry soup?”

It was Harry’s turn to stare at his assistant, until they both seemed to look away in the same instant, a sort of joint embarrassment force field repelling their gazes.

“Yes,” Harry said, recovering himself. “An unusual choice, I concede, but I promise you it works. So long as you’re not allergic to strawberries.”

“Yeah, okay then,” Eggsy said with a jerky nod, and a slight smile which turned into a bigger one when Harry smiled back, his own tinged with relief. “So long as you promise.”

Harry shook off the possible implications of that throwaway comment as he went to the fridge to retrieve their food.

“This is _good_ ,” Eggsy said not five minutes later, just-about-not through a mouthful of the soup and the baguette Harry had picked up on the way to the shop. “Where did you learn to make this? Is it like a family recipe or something?”

Harry swallowed his mouthful and breathed a laugh. “Hardly,” he answered. “I learnt nothing about cooking from either of my parents.” Eggsy’s interested look compelled him to continue. “My father would never be seen in a kitchen, whereas my mother…well, she kept us fed, but certainly by the time I was born she had very much lost interest in the domestic side of things. And then when I was a little older _ready meals_ came along, and, well…”

Eggsy was grinning at him. “I actually can’t imagine you eating a ready meal,” he said. “It would be like you bein’ in a fight.”

“I’ll have you know I was a boxer in my school days,” Harry told him, affecting a tone of offence.

“Really?” Eggsy said, not sounding disbelieving as Harry would have expected, but genuinely interested. “Was you any good?”

They chatted for the full lunch hour, until – much to Harry’s surprise and a small amount of shame – Amos stuck his head through the door, looked at them still sitting at the small table with breadcrumbs on their plates and empty soup bowls in front of them and then said, “Are you aware it is ten past two?”

Harry rose and started collecting the crockery, Amos leaving before he could even offer a response.

“Thanks,” Eggsy said, just as Harry was about to step back into the front ready for a quarter past two fitting, and Eggsy was settling himself down with his pile of fabric again. “For the soup and that, I mean. It was nice.”

Harry smiled. “My pleasure,” he said. “I’m glad my culinary efforts met with your approval.” They shared a sense of amusement, and Harry was aware that during the course of the meal they’d gone from colleagues who could smile at one another’s jokes to those who could actually share them.

He also realised, with not a small amount of delight, that Eggsy had barely glanced at his phone the whole hour, instead paying Harry his full attention. He left the back room thoroughly more charmed by the young man.

* * * * *

Eggsy realised, at four in the morning as he was rocking a fretful Daisy back and forth in the narrow gap between his bed and her cot, thinking that he should have remembered to put her teething ring in the freezer before bed, that he was actually quite happy.

The realisation came to him slowly, as he rubbed Daisy’s back and whispered to her about the silly teeth that were hurting her and they just didn’t know better, but she’d be glad of them when she got to eat seaside rock. He should have been frustrated, maybe upset, even pissed off, but he just…wasn’t.

Daisy was usually a good sleeper when she wasn’t unwell, but her first few months hadn’t been that way. Eggsy had still been at home then, and he well remembered being woken not by his sister’s cries so much as Dean’s angry going on at his mum: “Can’t you shut her up? I’m fucking tired,” like no one else in the house was, like Daisy was doing it deliberately. Similarly, he remembered his mum getting more tired and more anxious as his sister didn’t settle, sometimes getting just shy of shouting at Daisy herself – keeping her voice down so she didn’t get it in the neck from Dean – before apologising to her when it only made her cry harder and trying to comfort her, but it rarely worked.

Sometimes Daisy would just drop off to sleep from exhaustion. Sometimes Eggsy would creep out of bed – not needing Dean’s lectures about how taking care of a baby was a woman’s responsibility, how Eggsy was a nancy who cried at the thought of a baby crying – and wordlessly take her from his mother, rocking and soothing her quietly much like he was doing at the moment, while his mum looked at him somewhere between grateful and fearful, until his sister settled and they both sloped back to their own beds and their own thoughts.

Those nights Eggsy had his own share of anger, though never at his sister, but now – even though the whole situation had come about because of Dean – he didn’t have it in him to be angry. He felt, weirdly, _lucky_ that he got to be here, that Daisy got to have him here helping her through her moments of pain, being able to cry with someone telling her to shush only because they wanted her to feel better and not because they were worried about what would happen if she didn’t.

Eggsy thought about it as he kept rocking her. It wasn’t that it wasn’t stressful, being the main person she was relying on. He had a lot of help, he had to admit, but even so he was the one it all came down to in the end. Social services had helped him out – a bit – by getting her three mornings a week at a nursery close to the tailor’s. In between, he’d roped in babysitting from Jamal (who he paid), Brandon’s mum (who he didn’t) and Deanna, who’d actually insisted on it. There were still hours here and there or journeys in between the various carers that weren’t covered, but Eggsy was never more thankful that most of his friends could only dream of full time jobs, because it meant he could cadge these favours from them.

It helped that Daisy was cute, and usually dead easy to look after. If it had been Ryan’s little brother he didn’t think the response would have been quite as helpful.

On top of the organisational nightmare of caring for a baby with a full time job and learning all about weird rashes and whether or not you were meant to have plastic plug socket covers – because the social worker brought it up but then didn’t seem to know the answer herself – there was also all of the new stuff he was learning at work. Every day seemed to bring a new lesson, from chalking to threading to measuring to complimenting (either fabrics or customers), and Eggsy had to admit that some days it all started to get a bit muddled in his head, and he lost track of something he’d had down just two hours ago.

It helped that Harry was one of the most patient men Eggsy had ever come across. It wasn’t a surprise that most managers were dicks, so it was a nice change of pace that Harry just – wasn’t. He actually seemed to want to teach Eggsy, seemed to give a damn about him as a person rather than just what he was doing for him at work, and it made going to work actually kind of nice. Yeah, there were some shit bits, like having to keep quiet when people were full on snobs or getting his fingers stabbed ten times in an hour because he was still very much at the amateur end of tailoring, but overall, Eggsy actually looked forward to going to work, and he couldn’t remember that ever really happening before.

It wasn’t just that Harry was a good manager. He was a decent bloke, too – smart and funny, but Eggsy had never got the feeling like he looked down on Eggsy for not knowing what he did. If Harry had been born thirty years later Eggsy thought they might have been quite good mates – although he couldn’t picture Harry hanging out with him and the lads, and maybe Harry would be a totally different person if he were born thirty years later, so probably not worth thinking about it.

Amos was cool too – literally very chilled out – but his head was somewhere else, waiting for Eggsy to learn more so he could do less hours, go start his course in Fashion or something. He didn’t talk much about stuff outside of work, whereas Harry would, though usually only if Eggsy started the conversation, like maybe he didn’t think it was proper for a gentleman. Eggsy didn’t try to figure him out all the time, it would take too much effort.

Daisy started to settle in his arms, her hands going from tightly clenched fists up at his collarbone to loose, spread fingers, her right arm starting to drop to her side.

All things considered, Eggsy thought as he very gently laid her back down, even with all the stress, he quite liked his life right now.


	3. Chapter 3

“Eggsy,” Harry said, tone halfway between warning and worry, “that’s Mr Malcolm’s suit.”

There was a pause as Eggsy stared dumbly at him, still holding the suit, whilst Mr Quli stood next to him, a look of thinly veiled distaste on his face.

When Eggsy didn’t respond, Mr Quli said in his deep voice, “That is _not_ my cut.”

Eggsy looked at the suit, made for a man roughly three times the size of Mr Quli, looked at Mr Quli, and finally, thankfully, caught on.

“Oh, sh- sorry. Mr Quli.” He almost bowed. “My apologies, sir. I’ll just go and fetch yours.”

“Second time lucky,” Mr Quli said loudly to Eggsy’s retreating back.

Once the transaction was over, Mr Quli at least happy with his own suit, Harry brought his attention firmly to his young assistant. It was a troubling sight. Eggsy didn’t even look like he normally did when he made mistakes – much less so now, about a month and a half into his employment – a mixture of embarrassed and defensive, as if wanting to retort, “I don’t care,” to anyone who were to tell him he’d got something wrong but equally clearly caring very much. Instead, he simply looked tired and like his mind was elsewhere.

He’d been looking like this for a few days, in fact, but every time Harry enquired politely after his health, his life or his general wellbeing, he just received simple, polite answers that suggested nothing was amiss.

It was time to be a little rude.

Harry stuck his head into the back, where Amos was working on a staggeringly ugly waistcoat for a customer who insisted he wasn’t colour-blind (despite no one ever even intimating as such, making it almost certain that he was). “Amos,” he said, “can you man the till, please?”

“I’m almost finished with this,” Amos replied, glancing up, then evidently reading Harry’s face and simply putting the item down carefully before crossing the room.

“Eggsy,” Harry called as Amos passed him in the doorway, then jerked his head meaningfully towards the back. He waited just long enough to see the understanding register on Eggsy’s face, not long enough for the man to reply.

Harry sat at the lunch table and waited for Eggsy to sit opposite, a little frown on the young man’s face.

Harry knew by now that Eggsy didn’t care much for pleasantries or easing into things. Where he would have called it social graces, Eggsy called it, “Giving someone a shit sandwich. And what’s the point? At the end of the day it’s still shit, innit? Might as well just give me the shit and let me get on with it rather than wasting bread.”

Therefore, he began with, “Eggsy, I’m worried about you.”

Eggsy frowned harder. They both waited, but Harry was more patient. “Why?” Eggsy said. “I’m fine.” Harry waited again. “Is this about Mr Quli? Sorry, bruv – man – _Harry_ \- I just picked up the wrong one, is all. I’ll be more careful.”

“I know you will,” said Harry, deliberately gently, letting the man know he wasn’t annoyed about that. “It’s not just that, though. You’ve been…distracted for several days now. And, if I’m not mistaken, tired?”

Eggsy stared at him for a second before blowing out a breath and looking away. “Yeah, yeah, I am a bit tired. Sorry, Harry, I’m gonna – I’ll get to bed early tonight.”

Harry stopped himself from smiling, knowing it wouldn’t help. “Eggsy, I’m not your teacher,” he said, drawing Eggsy’s wary look back to him. “I’m asking – partly as your employer, yes, but also as – someone who’s worried about you.” It was too presumptuous to say ‘friend’, even if that was what Harry wished they were – all other wishes aside. He knew they weren’t friends to Eggsy’s mind.

There was a long pause, and just when Harry was about to say that Eggsy didn’t _have_ to tell him, he just needed to know that he could, while Harry hid his disappointment, Eggsy said, “I got a lot on at home at the moment.”

Harry waited, then said, “Yes?” raising his eyebrows expectantly. He didn’t know much about Eggsy’s home life, only that he lived alone rather than with family or housemates, as he might have expected.

Eggsy’s jaw moved back and forth a few seconds, his lips still closed, as though the words were trying to make their way out of his mouth and he wasn’t ready to let them. “I been looking after my baby sister,” he said eventually.

“Oh,” Harry said, surprised. “Are your – parents away?” He wondered how Eggsy was doing that whilst still being here, but as soon as the thought arrived that Eggsy had left a baby at home alone, he dismissed it entirely. Obviously Eggsy wasn’t caring for the child alone. “Or ill?” He realised that he’d never heard Eggsy mention any of his family, save perhaps for his mother once or twice in passing. He also registered the unusualness of a twenty-three year old having a baby sibling, and wondered how many other siblings he had. Perhaps that was his reason for living alone.

All of this, Harry wondered as Eggsy again seemed to struggle to speak. “No,” he ground out. “My mum – Daisy’s dad is-” He looked Harry straight in the eyes, taking on a hard tone. “A total fuck up who beats my mum up, and she won’t leave him. So social services asked me to take the baby.”

Harry realised, even as he processed this entirely unexpected news and wondered what on earth was the proper thing to say to that, that the longer he took the more defensive Eggsy was getting. It was as if he could physically see Eggsy placing armour on himself, half-second by half-second, waiting for Harry to strike.

“My gosh,” Harry finally said, pathetically. “That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty fucked up, innit?” Eggsy replied. Harry heard it as the challenge it was.

Despite that, he couldn’t help himself asking, “Why didn’t you tell me?” even though he knew as the words left his mouth that it was a stupid question and not the sort of thing he needed to ask, like, “How are you coping?”

He watched in regret as a scowl took over Eggsy’s face. “Pretty much figured I’d get the sack, innit?” Eggsy looked away from him. “It’s not gonna get easier any time soon. Daisy’s still cryin’ for mum. And teething. So I’m just gonna keep fucking up around here.”

Harry wondered how poorly he’d portrayed himself that Eggsy thought he would be so callous. He’d expected Eggsy to say he was worried about Harry’s reaction, but not that it would be so cruel.

“Of course you won’t get the sack,” he replied, his hurt meaning he simply parroted Eggsy’s words back instead of using more professional terminology. “This is simply – poor circumstance,” understatement of the year, “it’s not your fault.”

Eggsy met his eyes again, a curious look as though he were trying to puzzle Harry out.

“I will not end your employment for being a good person,” Harry said, more firmly.

He stopped himself from saying more, needing to know that Eggsy was listening to this, actually understanding it.

The young man looked at him again more several more seconds before his head dropped a little. “Yeah, ‘m sorry,” he mumbled. “I suppose, I should’ve figured you’re not like that.” His gaze lifted again, but Harry could see it was still wary, warring with hopefulness.

Harry physically felt himself falling a little bit in love with this brash, rough, defensive, uncultured, beautiful, clever, warm-hearted, charming young man. His heart squeezed as if Eggsy had literally wrapped himself around it for a second or two, and he fought not to let it show on his face. He knew – though he would save this thought to examine later in safety – that he was a little bit fucked.

Instead, he cleared his throat and wrapped professionalism around himself like a cloak, the better for both their sakes in this moment. “We’ll work it out,” he said, referring both to his own inner ridiculousness and Eggsy’s current predicament. “If you need to take time off, or work shorter hours, or – however we can make it easier.”

Eggsy looked simply confused now, as though he couldn’t believe what was being offered.

“Suits will continue to be made,” Harry said, “but not if my employees run themselves into the ground.”

“Yeah?” Eggsy asked after another beat, as though he wanted to ask a thousand questions for reassurance but didn’t quite trust what the answers would be.

“Yeah,” said Harry, deliberately parroting this time, and smiling when Eggsy grinned knowingly at him.

Yeah. He was a bit fucked.

* * * * *

“Thank you very much, sir. Have a good day.” Eggsy smiled until he saw the customer walk past the shop front and out of sight, then dropped it like a stone. There hadn’t been anything wrong with the man’s manner, but he’d taken so _long_. Amos had come out from the back twice in the time Eggsy was helping him, raising his eyebrows the second time to telegraph _is he_ still _here_? though Eggsy could do nothing to respond, instead pinching the shoulder of the ninth jacket the man had tried on and demonstrating why it really wasn’t right, though even Eggsy on his first day could have seen that before the man put it on. It was like he’d gone for eighties shoulder pads.

Eggsy reached under the desk for his phone, since the heat was back for the tail end of July, as if summer had remembered itself. He wasn’t going to take the piss, even though he sort of suspected with Harry’s reaction to his news last week that he could have got away with more than he intended. He was, though, going to take the opportunity to check his phone a little bit more regularly and a little less secretively when he couldn’t keep it on him.

He knew Daisy was fine with everyone who looked after her, really. Still, it was like the longer she was with him, the more he worried. The more time he spent with her the more he noticed just how many near misses there were, moments where she’d just escape trapping her fingers in a box or faceplanting the concrete. It didn’t help that she was getting more and more determined to walk on her own, never mind how wobbly she was, and less and less inclined to just let Eggsy carry her or stay in the pushchair. With every near miss, there were more worries about when she _wouldn’t_ miss, because it was definitely due.

A missed call from an unknown number gave Eggsy a nasty little shock. He wasn’t sure if the voicemail notification made it worse or better.

“Amos,” he called, simultaneously opening the door by leaning on it with his back and pivoting round. “Can you watch the front for a sec?”

“Two minutes,” Amos said through lips holding several needles, so Eggsy bounced on his toes in the doorway, eyes flicking between the phone and the shop door whilst Amos got to a stopping point.

“Thanks bruv,” said Eggsy as they swapped places, already dialling his voicemail.

The brief message took away his nerves about something having happened to Daisy, but immediately replaced them with another set of nerves about something else – although still about Daisy. Eggsy rang the number back, hoping for the call to be answered but half-expecting it wouldn’t be.

Someone or something was on his side. “Hello, Junior Williams?”

“Hey,” said Eggsy. “This is, uh, Eggsy Unwin. Gary. I got your message about – the next steps?”

“Gary!” Junior said, sounding overly pleased. “Thanks for calling back. Sorry, did you say – something else? Not Gary?”

“Yeah, I go by Eggsy,” Eggsy said. “Gary’s my real name though.”

“Okay,” said Junior easily enough. “Well, yes, I did want to talk to you about the next steps. I’ve just been allocated to complete your viability assessment. Rochelle’s mentioned it?”

“Uh…” said Eggsy. “She said something about an assessment, yeah.” He didn’t recall the word ‘viability’, but even in the few conversations they’d had, Rochelle had used a lot of terms that were unfamiliar and he’d stopped asking early on, just deciding to trust it would work out and the solicitor he apparently had to have would let him know if anything was really important.

“Right,” Junior said. “Well, this is a sort of brief assessment to see if it’s suitable for Daisy to stay with you while the care proceedings continue. I know,” he continued as Eggsy started to frown, “it doesn’t sound like it makes sense, given that she’s already with you and we did some checks when she was first placed with you. But it’s more in-depth than that, it’ll take a few visits and then depending on what happens, there could be a fuller assessment for a Special Guardianship Order. This should have begun a few weeks ago really, and I am sorry it’s taken so long for me to be allocated.”

“’s fine,” said Eggsy vaguely, wondering what a fuller assessment would mean if this one was already going to take a few visits.

“I do need to ask,” Junior said, getting Eggsy’s attention back, “what would your view be about a Special Guardianship Order? Is it something you’ve considered yet? I know it’s early days, and-”

Eggsy cut him off, not meaning to but knowing his answer already. “I don’t want Daisy going back while mum’s still with him,” he said, avoiding using Dean’s name because the bastard didn’t deserve even that basic courtesy. “I need to know she’s safe. And she ain’t while he’s there. My mum ain’t, either, but… she can choose, innit. Daisy can’t.”

“Absolutely,” Junior said, sounding appropriately serious. “Okay, that’s good. It’s probably worth having a chat with your solicitor about the SGO when you can, just so you know what we might be thinking about. For now, though, we’ll just make plans for this. All of the other things Rochelle is doing are still going on, I’m just adding the assessment. Sorry about that,” he sort of laughed, and Eggsy sort of laughed back, confused as to what was funny but being polite. Harry would be proud, he thought, and grinned to himself.

“So…” Junior said, and Eggsy could hear some clicking in the background. “Let’s have a look for a time for our first meeting. I’ll need to come and see you at home, that’s okay?”

Eggsy knew even though it was phrased as a question it wasn’t one, but it didn’t bother him too much. Now Daisy was around, the place was the cleanest it had ever been, due to her habit of putting anything she found in her mouth. “Yeah, sure. When?”

Junior clicked some more. “How about…Thursday afternoon…oh, no, that’s no good, you’ve got the LAC review then.”

“The what?”

“The LAC review,” Junior repeated. When Eggsy didn’t respond, he continued, “The meeting with the IRO? I mean – Independent Reviewing Officer?”

“Sorry, mate,” Eggsy said, as nothing rang any bells.

“Um,” said Junior. “It’s – Rochelle should have mentioned it. Because Daisy’s technically a looked after child, because of the care order, even though she’s with you, she has to have LAC – looked after child reviews. It’s like a meeting chaired by an independent person – well, sort of independent because they still work for the local authority, but they’re independent of the social work team and their job is to make sure the care plan’s being followed, and that includes that the social work team are doing what they need to do.”

Eggsy had thought there only was one social worker for them, which was Rochelle, but maybe Junior’s involvement made it a team. He didn’t care enough to ask. “Right,” he said. “So I’ve got to go to this meeting?”

“Yes,” said Junior. “It’s nothing to be worried about, it’ll probably be quite small since Daisy’s so young, just you, the IRO, Rochelle, your mum, maybe Daisy’s dad-“

“I’m not going to a meeting with him,” Eggsy said. “I ain’t even seen him in like a year and if I do I’m probably gonna punch him. Sorry, mate,” he said, not sorry at all, “but he’s a right piece of scum.”

There was a bit of a pause before Junior answered, and Eggsy wondered dimly underneath his anger whether he’d just fucked things up for Daisy, but he was too righteously annoyed to worry about it right now. Better to be honest, right?

“Right,” said Junior, “I can see how that would be an issue, yeah. Look, I can’t say if he will be there or not, it’s not my meeting, but I can – I’ll ask Rochelle to give you a call to discuss the arrangements, is that okay? I mean, thinking about it he probably won’t have been invited, given the concerns and the – history – but I can’t say for certain.”

“Okay, yeah,” Eggsy said, breathing out.

“I’ll ask her to call you,” Junior repeated. “But, as I was saying, aside from those people, it’s probably only the health visitor who would be there. And it’s just to discuss how she’s getting on, the future plans, contact, that sort of thing.”

“Right, yeah,” said Eggsy. “So when is this? And where?”

“It’s two o’ clock on Thursday,” Junior said.

“This Thursday?” Eggsy said.

“Yes…” Junior said, and he did sound a bit sorry.

At least, Eggsy supposed, it had been dropped on him _after_ Harry told him he could take time off whenever he needed to. The world had _some_ sense of timing.

* * * * *

Harry looked up from the trousers he was overweaving, praying silently that whoever entered wasn’t looking for the same service. He was thoroughly sick of looking at the crotch of gentlemen’s trousers – Mr Wash having dropped off fifteen pairs all in a similar state of wear – and that was a sad thing indeed.

His prayers were answered, however, with a familiar face and a warm smile.

“Hamish!” Harry greeted his long-since-ex in genuine delight, noticing fondly how Hamish glanced quickly around the shop before leaning in to peck Harry on the lips in his customary greeting.

“Harry,” Hamish returned, standing effortlessly casually, one hand in his pocket as though he’d reached the end of a runway. “How’re things?”

They chatted for a little while, Hamish telling Harry about the recent misadventures of his dogs – one with a broken paw, the other having swallowed then later vomited a sock – and Harry telling Hamish not much was new for him. Of course, that was the cue for Eggsy to come sauntering through from the back, clocking Hamish’s relaxed manner and Harry’s smile and raising his eyebrows at Harry in question.

“Eggsy,” Harry said, still smiling, both unable and unwilling to adopt a more professional bearing. There were no customers there at present, after all. “Hamish, this is my new assistant, Eggsy. Eggsy, this is my friend Hamish.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Hamish said, taking the hand out of his pocket to hold it out to Eggsy, who likewise had to shift a pile of garments onto his left arm to shake Hamish’s. Instead of speaking, Eggsy just did a funny jerk of his head towards Hamish, with a polite smile.

“Where d’you want these?” Eggsy asked Harry, indicating the garments with his eyes.

Harry glanced at them and sighed. “Rail two. And please don’t hold them that way, they’ll be awfully creased.”

Harry should have felt frustrated, but he only felt fond when Eggsy rolled his eyes in response and said, “I’m hangin’ ‘em now, I’m not gonna throw ‘em on the floor and roll all over ‘em.”

“I see you’re training your new assistant up to be _your_ boss,” Hamish teased as Eggsy rounded the desk and went to rail two. Harry watched him, glad when instead of the defensive frown he might have expected he instead saw Eggsy smirk as he began to hang jackets.

They chatted only a minute or two more, before Hamish had to go and they made plans to meet at the weekend.

“Bye then,” Hamish said before leaning in to peck Harry on the lips again, and Harry leant in to meet him despite a millisecond’s mental pause at the reminder that there was someone else around. Harry watched Hamish leave, but his eyes thereafter were immediately drawn to Eggsy, who was outright staring at him with raised eyebrows.

Harry felt his own familiar defensive armour start to rattle in the back of his mind, but he’d had enough life experience now both not to let it show, and to wait to see if it was needed.

“Eggsy?” he prompted.

“What?” said Eggsy, sounding his default unpolished self. He blinked. “Oh. Sorry, bruv. I just didn’t realise…”

“That I’m gay?” Harry finished the sentence for him, deciding to take the bull by the horns. “Will that be a problem?” he asked before Eggsy had a chance to respond.

“Nah, ‘course not,” Eggsy shook his head with a little frown, and Harry’s armour began to recede. “I’ve got friends that are gay.”

At Harry’s questioning look, because it just didn’t quite ring true, Eggsy amended, “Okay, well I mean, I knew some kids in school that was gay. And it weren’t a problem.” Harry smiled at Eggsy’s attempt to try to come across as completely comfortable when it was obvious he wasn’t, entirely, but as long as he wasn’t actually homophobic, it was fine.

“I just didn’t expect it from you,” Eggsy continued. “I mean, you’re all posh and stuff.”

Harry stared for a second before a sudden laugh escaped him. “I think you’ll find every social class has its fair share of us,” he said.

Eggsy grinned, looking away sheepishly. “Yeah, I suppose. I mean…you know what I mean.”

Harry suspected what Eggsy meant was that he didn’t expect Harry to be gay because he didn’t act like a walking stereotype – at least not one Eggsy would have seen on television – but he wasn’t about to call him out on it. He could educate these prejudices out of him just as well as he could educate him on his everyday manners, mainly by simply demonstrating the correct behaviour. He smiled at Eggsy in return.

The topic seemingly over, for now, Harry picked up Mr Wash’s trousers again and Eggsy turned back to the rail. They attended to their tasks in a comfortable silence for a minute or so until Harry was startled by a vibration on the desk, accompanied by a buzzing sound.

“Sh- sorry,” Eggsy said, eyes wide, as he came over and reached over the desk to retrieve his phone. “Thought I put it on full silent. Didn’t mess up your stitching, did it?”

Harry smiled. “I’m not quite that easily-“

“ _Shit_ ,” Eggsy interrupted him, looking at his phone. It said something that he didn’t even rush to apologise. “Harry, I’m sorry, I meant to ask – tomorrow, I kind of need to be at a meeting.”

He looked up at Harry, a needlessly pleading look on his face. “Of course,” Harry said before Eggsy could say any more, before Harry could forget himself and do something over-familiar. “When is it?”

“I need to leave about half one,” Eggsy said, glancing at the phone again, before tapping a few things and then placing it back under the desk, hopefully not on vibrate now. “It’s a meeting about my sister being in care.”

“I thought she was staying with you?” Harry frowned.

“Yeah, she is,” Eggsy nodded. “Apparently she’s still in care though. I don’t really get it, but they just told me about it yesterday.”

Harry nodded, then when Eggsy made no move to return to his previous task, he asked, “What’s the meeting for, then?”

Eggsy’s lips twisted to one side. “Like…what the plan is, or something. And how she’s getting on.” He had a little frown. “I don’t know, really.”

Harry sensed the young man’s unease, and he didn’t like it. “Well, it can’t be that serious, if they haven’t actually told you what it’s about,” he ventured. “I mean, if there was actually a concern, surely they would have mentioned it.”

“Suppose so,” Eggsy said, appearing to consider this. There was a pause. “I’m a bit…scared, like,” he said, glancing at Harry as he admitted this and immediately looking away, which was for the best really since Harry wasn’t sure he’d managed to catch the feeling that he wanted to just hug the boy before it crossed his face. “You know, in case they decide they do have concerns, or whatever.” He looked at Harry now. “She can’t go back to mum. She’s gotta stay with me.”

“Eggsy,” Harry said, making sure the man was listening carefully to him. “You have been doing a thoroughly impressive job looking after your sister, not to mention holding down a full time job at the same time, having taken on the former at a moment’s notice. You will go to the meeting, you will look very smart and impressive,” he smiled as Eggsy did, “and they will have no reason to doubt you, because you have no reason to doubt yourself.”

Harry knew, in all honesty, that he couldn’t promise Eggsy that the meeting would go well, or that things wouldn’t go horribly wrong for his sister. But he thought things probably would go better if Eggsy was able to go in there confident, and besides which, he felt his little pep talk was worth it at least in the moment when Eggsy just smiled at him and said, “Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” said Harry. “You will…kick arse, I believe is the expression?”

It was completely worth it when Eggsy laughed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel it's important to say that Eggsy's thoughts about Michelle in this chapter (and indeed anything else, but particularly about this) are his, not mine. Domestic abuse is a complex issue and I have had the luxury of training and professional experience which most people haven't. It is very human to wonder why someone wouldn't leave an abusive partner, especially when they have children that are witnessing or caught up in that abuse, especially when it gets to the point where children's services get involved and it essentially seems a choice between the partner or the child(ren). The truth is that it is not a free nor a simple choice. Domestic abusers get inside their victims' heads. They twist reality. They crush self-esteem. There is a reason why domestic abuse survivors leave their abusive partner on average seven times before they manage to leave for good. I won't do chapter and verse on this, because that's not what you're here for, but I just wanted to make it clear that while Eggsy's thoughts are hopefully in keeping with his character and understandable, this social worker knows it isn't as black and white as that. The children still need to (and do) come first, but understanding the complexity of domestic abuse means we can have a bit more empathy for the victims.

At ten to two on Thursday afternoon, Eggsy came out of the stairwell on the second floor in a non-descript office block into a small reception area, a few chairs and uncomfortable-looking upholstered benches in garish colours dotted about. Doors led off from the room in multiple directions.

The reception held about ten or twelve people, so it was fairly crowded, but he spotted his mum immediately. She was sitting in the far corner, and glanced up just as his gaze fell on her.

Eggsy’s first, instinctive reaction was to go to her. The second, also instinctive and by far more powerful reaction drove him to look carefully around the room, making sure none of these other people were Dean.

Only when he was satisfied that they were reasonably safe did Eggsy cross the room. He noted, in the few steps over, a large but fading bruise on the left side of her face. Her hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in a few days, and she was wearing trainers which didn’t go with the skirt and top she had on, presumably to try and dress up a bit. He wondered about the rest of her shoes, but like many other times, knew he wouldn’t ask.

“Eggsy,” his mum said when he reached her, giving him a very faint smile, as though she wasn’t sure what his reaction would be. He hated that Dean had made her feel like she had to fear people, him even, so he deliberately gave her the warmest smile he could manage, even if it felt like a grimace, as he sat adjacent to her.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to hug her, yet.

“You’re looking very smart,” his mum said quietly, with a hint of pride. Eggsy glanced down at himself, and was almost surprised to see one of his two bespoke suits, like seeing his mum had just taken him straight back to his life as of a couple of months ago, when he wouldn’t even have known what bespoke really meant.

“Came straight from work,” he said, wanting to brush over it rather than make her feel out of place.

Her smile dropped a bit, even so. “You didn’t bring Daisy?” she asked, eyes darting past him like maybe she was looking for her.

Eggsy shook his head. “She’s with Brandon’s mum.” He watched as his mum’s eyes dropped to her lap, and said, “I didn’t know if you wanted to see her, anyway.”

He hadn’t meant it to be mean, but his mum clearly took it that way as she gasped without sound, looking at him with deep hurt etched on her face and said, “Of course I want to see her, Eggsy! She’s my daughter!”

Neither of them knew what to say to that, apparently, because neither of them said anything before looking away.

About half a minute later, as Eggsy was searching for things to say that would have any meaning to them and weren’t just versions of, “Well where the fuck have you been, then?” a woman with big hair, a big belt and a big pile of papers approached them.

“Michelle,” she said, reaching out her hand to Eggsy’s mum, who took it so that they shared the weakest possible handshake and the vaguest approximation of smiles. “Is this Eggsy?” she followed it up, gesturing to him, and Eggsy held his hand out as she reached out to him, giving her a firm shake because all this time with Harry and Amos had embedded it in him now, and it would have felt weirder not to. “Have you both signed in?” she said, and when Eggsy answered in the negative she gestured him towards the little booth he’d missed on his way in, focused on his mum.

He went over and stood behind the one person there already, then signed himself in and put the ‘Visitor’ sticker on his breast pocket, considering whether the sticky substance was going to affect the fabric but not really having much choice.

When he returned, the woman – whose voice he had placed now – was sitting in his previous seat, so he sat opposite his mum.

“Hi,” the social worker said to him. “Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Rochelle. How are you?”

“Fine, thanks,” he answered automatically, then also automatically took the stapled sheets of paper she handed him.

“You’re looking very smart,” she said, far too cheerfully for the circumstances, and he acknowledged her with a quirk of his lips that didn’t really mean anything. “This is my report,” she said, and Eggsy glanced up to see his mum had already got one and was looking through it. “We complete one for all of these meetings.”

Their small group lapsed into silence as both Eggsy and his mum started reading. The report started with Daisy’s basic details – they’d misspelled her middle name, and he wondered if his mum had noticed or pointed it out – then went onto a history of why she was ‘in care.’

Eggsy had been feeling nothing but sorry for his mum since he’d seen her, but that quickly dissipated as he read the report. Instead, anger began to rise, hot in his gut. He’d known that Daisy had been around the violence – of course he’d known, because he’d been there too. He’d been around it for several years before she was born, and Dean hadn’t turned into a decent bloke just because Daisy came along. In the early months of her life, Eggsy had swung between taking Daisy away to protect her when Dean was being a dick, if he could get away with it, or getting between his mum and Dean when the violence was bad, to protect his mum.

What Eggsy hadn’t known was that there were two times that Daisy had been around when his mum had felt it was bad enough to call the police. That meant there were probably hundreds of other times after he left when it wasn’t that bad – but still bad enough – and there was no way Daisy slept through all of them. His mum had made out like it had got a lot better since Eggsy had moved out, but that was clearly a lie.

The other thing he didn’t know, and didn’t fully understand, but understood enough of to make him feel a bit sick, was that Dean had had one of his mates around who was a ‘Person Posing a Risk to Children’. The report didn’t say why, but Eggsy could fill in the gaps as well as he needed to. You didn’t get a label like that just for smacking your kids a few times. His mum had been told this guy couldn’t be around, but of course Dean had overridden that, so his mum had ignored it. And then his mum had been told Dean couldn’t be around – after the first time she called the police – and then again Dean had overridden it, so of course she’d ignored it.

And now Daisy was with Eggsy.

He skimmed the rest of the report, which talked in not much detail, since there wasn’t much to say, about things like Daisy’s health and non-existent education and other things. There was a section at the end titled ‘Contact’ and he just gave up on it then, figuring he knew exactly what it should say.

Eggsy looked up at his mum, and knew the anger must be showing even though he was controlling it, because he wasn’t that dickhead of a bloke that she thought was more important than her own daughter. His mum looked like she wanted to cry, but he’d lost his sympathy for her.

They waited at least another ten minutes before a woman called, “Baker!” stood in one of the doorways to another room, and Rochelle stood, so they followed her. Another woman had arrived in the time they were waiting, had introduced herself to Eggsy and Rochelle as Tanya, the health visitor, and had then taken one of Rochelle’s reports over to another seat to read.

Their little group walked past the woman who’d shouted into a room with a large table, about twelve chairs and whiteboards covering the walls, and nothing else. They all took seats, and just as the woman who’d called them was about to shut the door someone else appeared and just stopped it from being closed in her face.

”Sorry, sorry,” she gasped, and Eggsy realised she was the manager from Daisy’s nursery. “I got off at the wrong stop; I’ve had to jog all the way here.”

Eggsy said hi to her, a little confused, then they all settled down. The lady who seemed to be leading things handed a piece of paper to Rochelle, who was sat next to her, and Rochelle began writing on it. The health visitor took out a pen and a pad of paper from her bag, as did Eva, the nursery manager, and Eggsy noticed Rochelle had one as well. He wondered if he was supposed to have one, then decided if anyone called him on it he would point out that he only found out about this meeting by accident anyway.

“Okay, everyone,” the woman who’d called them in said. She was sitting at the head of the table, a pen in her hand and two different documents in front of her. “Are we expecting anyone else?” She addressed this to Rochelle, who shook her head. “Right then,” she continued. “My name is Kerry Brown, and I am the Independent Reviewing Officer for Daisy…” she trailed off, looking at the paper in front of her and then continuing, “Baker. This is Daisy’s Looked After Child review meeting and it’s my job to lead this meeting and ensure everything is going to plan for Daisy while she is in care. Shall we start by all going round and making sure everyone knows each other?”

They dutifully introduced themselves, one by one. At Eggsy’s turn he said, “I’m Eggsy – it says Gary but nobody calls me that – and I’m Daisy’s brother.”

“And Daisy is placed with you at the moment, isn’t she?” Kerry asked.

Eggsy nodded. “She’s living with me, yeah.” He didn’t know about being _placed_ with him.

Eggsy relaxed a little bit when the meeting got properly underway. For the first part it mainly seemed to be Kerry speaking to Rochelle, covering things he’d just read anyway. Then they asked him to say how he thought Daisy was getting on, which he didn’t really know how to answer, but they appeared satisfied with his few sentences about how she was still getting through her teething and she’d started trying to climb off and onto the sofa, both of which she was terrible at but cried every time when you helped her and stopped her from hurting herself.

Tanya and Eva both gave little sort of presentations about Daisy, then handed their own reports – much shorter than Rochelle’s – round to everybody which just said what they’d already said. “And you’ll be doing a developmental review soon?” Kerry asked Tanya.

“Yes,” Tanya said. “The 9 to 12 month review was… rescheduled, then it was missed, so I’ll be in contact with you shortly,” she looked at Eggsy, “to rebook that.”

“This was while Daisy was with mum?” Kerry asked, not looking up from the notes she was making.

“That’s right,” said Tanya.

Eggsy’s mum spent a lot of time looking at her lap.

After all of this, Kerry started talking about contact. “Now,” she said, shuffling her papers, “I can see that contact with mum has been recommended as…twice a week, supervised by Eggsy,” she briefly looked up at Eggsy, who raised his eyebrows slightly to convey _I didn’t know that but okay by me_ , then continued, “but this hasn’t actually happened yet. Michelle, Rochelle hasn’t been able to get in touch with you?”

Even though he was still angry at his mum – and of course at Dean, which was always the case – Eggsy felt a little bit of sympathy for her as Kerry stared at her expectantly.

“I – I broke my phone,” Eggsy’s mum said, not looking up, and he assumed that meant _Dean broke my phone_. “And then I got a new one, but I didn’t have anybody’s numbers…” Her voice wavered, and suddenly there were tears that she was hastily wiping away, and despite his urge to tell her they all knew that was total bullshit and there were a million ways she could have contacted any of them, instead Eggsy scooted his chair closer and put his arm round her.

She leaned into him for a few seconds while she cried and tried not to at the same time, and Eggsy held on grimly while everyone else did some awkward shuffling, then someone produced a packet of tissues which they pushed across the table. Michelle sat up and took one, wiped at her face, then sat back in her seat. She patted Eggsy’s knee and gave him a watery smile.

Kerry asked if she was okay, and okay to continue, and when Eggsy’s mum sniffled and said yes, they did. “So what’s your view on this contact plan, Michelle?” Kerry asked.

Michelle cleared her throat. “I want to see… I want to see my baby,” she said, obviously holding off on crying again. “As much as it’s allowed, yeah.” They discussed arrangements, Eggsy agreeing to all of it. He knew his mum loved Daisy to pieces. He just wished she loved her enough to get away from that arsehole.

“And contact with dad…” Kerry said, and Eggsy’s ears pricked up. “That hasn’t happened either?”

“He hasn’t engaged with a risk assessment,” said Rochelle. “So we can’t recommend it until that’s done.”

“Dean wouldn’t hurt Daisy,” Eggsy’s mum spoke up, and he gaped at her. She caught his expression, and added, “I know… I know he’s… hurt me, but he’s never hurt her.”

Rochelle started to speak, but Eggsy barely noticed. “You think it was okay for her to watch you getting beat up?” he asked. “You think it was okay for-” He stopped himself, abruptly, realising where they were and not wanting to ask _You think it was okay for_ me _to watch you getting beat up?_ in a room full of relative strangers.

He thought his mum probably heard what he hadn’t said, anyway, as her eyes welled up again and she looked down, but this time he wasn’t about to comfort her.

“There are still concerns about the impact of his behaviour on Daisy,” Kerry said, which Eggsy thought was putting it fucking lightly, “and we also have to take into account that, from what Eggsy’s told us, Dean has also been violent to him in the past.”

 _Not that distant a past_ Eggsy thought, focusing on that instead of thinking about what anyone else around the table might be thinking about him now. He caught sight of his mum looking at him, seemingly hurt again, and scowled at her, then at his lap. He was not going to let her make him feel bad for telling the truth about that dickhead.

Even though apparently he was already feeling guilty about it, and that just pissed him off even more.

He didn’t stick around when the meeting ended.

* * * * *

Early one Wednesday morning – too early, really – Harry had received an apologetic phone call from Eggsy explaining that he knew he was meant to be finishing early today anyway but his sister was sick, the nursery couldn’t take her while she had D&V, Brandon’s mum had a weak immune system so it wasn’t fair on her, Deanna was on holiday, he couldn’t get hold of Jamal or any of the lads and he was really, really sorry but he wouldn’t be able to make it in, unless someone called him back later. Harry had no idea who any of the aforementioned people were, but took the crying baby along with Eggsy’s frantic tone as enough evidence that the absence was warranted and assured him it was fine.

Later the same day, Harry stood outside Eggsy’s flat and knocked firmly but as quietly as he could manage while still attempting to be heard by anyone who was awake. From the phone call up until the last step before the door, Harry had been considering and re-considering this action and whether it was really sensible or not.

Harry’s worries disappeared entirely when Eggsy opened the door, a crying baby held against his chest and, on clocking Harry, his face changed immediately from tired and maybe suspicious to bright. “Harry!” he said, opening the door fully. Before Harry could say anything, he seemed to catch himself again. “What you doing here?” he asked, tone halfway between hopeful and wary.

Harry held up a paper bag. “I just happened to be in the neighbourhood and wondered whether you might appreciate some sustenance.”

Eggsy grinned at him and stepped back so he could enter. “Yeah, ‘cause you usually take afternoon walks round here,” he said, but didn’t go any further, for which Harry was grateful.

The baby was still crying, although she was clearly a little distracted by the new presence in the flat as she kept glancing at Harry before turning her face away again. “Sorry, come through,” Eggsy said, gesturing to the living area, and Harry followed him the three steps to the sofa. “She’s still really fussy,” Eggsy said unnecessarily, as he sat at one end and settled his sister in a new position on his chest, to which she immediately protested more loudly at. “She did sleep a bit earlier, but only about twenty minutes.”

Harry didn’t really know what to say about an unwell baby, but settled on, “She does seem quite upset. I suppose that’s understandable.” Even he could hear how inane it was, but Eggsy didn’t seem to mind, murmuring something to the baby and then looking up and treating Harry to a wide grin.

“I can’t believe you came all the way over here, bruv.” Harry couldn’t quite believe it either, which was the thing that had almost stopped him, but again Eggsy didn’t push the matter, just accepted it. “What did you bring?”

Harry smiled and started taking sandwiches and pastries out of the bag, setting them on the coffee table in front of the sofa, carefully moving some papers out of the way. “Oh, man,” Eggsy said, “you are a legend.”

They divvied the food out easily, then Eggsy asked, “D’you want a drink?” He got up to move towards the kitchen area, but Daisy protested again at being upright. “Oh, you’re gonna be a nightmare, flower, aren’t you,” he crooned at her, and Harry couldn’t find it anything but completely endearing.

Then Eggsy looked at him. “Would you mind holding her for a second?” he asked. “Just while I get the tea?”

Harry brushed imaginary dust off his trousers. “Of course,” he said with a confidence he didn’t feel, and held out his arms. Eggsy put Daisy into them, and Harry settled her on his knee. She paused in her crying long enough to study him now that they were much closer. “Hello, Daisy,” Harry said, as Eggsy smiled and then walked behind the sofa.

It had been a long while since Harry had held a baby. He remembered the basic mechanics, of course, and this one was old enough that there wasn’t any worry about supporting the head, but it was still just a little scary to be responsible for a vulnerable human, even if it was only for a minute.

“Aaaaah,” he heard from behind him, and turned his head just enough to see Eggsy stretching languidly, arms above his head and T-shirt rising up above the waistband of his jeans. It put a dusting of hair on his stomach on show. “’m sorry, but I’ve barely put her down since five, and that feels good.”

Suddenly, his eyes opened and he looked straight at Harry, with a slight frown. Harry barely had time to worry that he’d realised Harry was staring before he said, “She’s being quiet for you.”

Harry turned back to consider the baby, who was indeed now not crying, and was instead staring at Harry with the intensity he had afforded to her older brother, though hopefully not for the same reason.

“I suppose she is,” said Harry, and no sooner had he finished the sentence than Daisy began to wail again.

“Oh well,” said Eggsy, shrugging, “spoke too soon.”

He retrieved his sister as soon as the tea was made, though Harry made a token protest about the fact that he’d had her all day, to which Eggsy said, “That’s what I signed up for, innit?” Harry didn’t point out that Eggsy hadn’t exactly signed up for it, given that he hadn’t been the one to bring Daisy into the world in the first place, thinking it probably wasn’t his place.

They ate their lunch, Eggsy managing one-handed and asking after Mr Phillips who had attended for his third fitting that morning, which Eggsy had been meant to take care of. Harry obliged him by answering, but the conversation shifted soon enough to other things, like Harry’s continuing failed attempts to bake – “I just don’t understand. I can cook perfectly adequately; why should the addition of baking powder mean it’s doomed to failure?” “Your cooking is mint, bruv, but I don’t know. Maybe you need a new brand of baking powder?” – and Eggsy’s inability to know how to respond when a toddler had hit Daisy over the head at the park – “I mean, he’s like two, innit, so I can’t really go off on him, but at the same time, that’s my sister! What am I meant to do?”

Daisy spent most of the meal staring at Harry with her head on Eggsy’s shoulder, in between quieter and less frequent bouts of crying, and by the end of it she was fast asleep.

“I hope this lasts for a bit,” Eggsy said, suddenly dropping his voice to a whisper from his previous sentence, as though Daisy might hear him and wake up just to spite him. “Poor kid’s knackered.”

“I should imagine she’s not the only one,” Harry said, knowing it was far too fond but unable to stop it anyway. He drank in the sight of the man and the baby and just let his feelings be; it was no use pretending he didn’t care.

“Really, though,” Eggsy said, carefully learning forward to pick up his almost empty cup, “thanks for this.” He nodded at the food, and Harry hoped he meant more than just thanks for the food or the distraction from the baby, but he wasn’t going to ask. “Do you need to get back to the shop?” Eggsy asked suddenly, as though he’d just remembered its existence.

“Amos can mind it for the last couple of hours,” Harry said, waiting until Eggsy smiled at that before settling fully back into his seat, satisfied that wasn’t Eggsy’s subtle way of asking him to leave.

They hadn’t been chatting for much longer when a loud knock sounded, and both of them startled and looked immediately at Daisy, before sharing a smile when they both realised she hadn’t stirred. “I’m popular today,” Eggsy commented as he got up, deftly and carefully keeping hold of the baby.

Harry wondered that this might be his cue to leave, as he couldn’t imagine keeping company with Eggsy and any of his young friends – sad though this admission made him – but he was distracted from these thoughts by Eggsy’s greeting at the door being, “Oh, shit. I totally forgot. Sorry, man, come in.”

Harry turned to see a young mixed-race man enter, smiling warmly at Eggsy and Daisy, then more politely at Harry as he noticed him on his way to sit down. He took the armchair.

Eggsy closed the door and returned to the sofa. “Junior, this is Harry,” he said, settling back into his spot. “Harry, this is Junior. He’s the one doing my assessment. Sorry bruv, I forgot you was coming. I mean I remembered, I booked off work, but then this one’s been ill all day so I haven’t been in. She’s only just settled.”

“Oh, poor thing,” said Junior, pulling a sympathetic face. “So, Harry, are you -?”

“He’s my guv’nor,” said Eggsy, to which Junior nodded and Harry couldn’t stop himself from looking appalled.

Eggsy actually laughed at him as he said, “Honestly, Eggsy. I’m your _manager_. We don’t work on the docks.”

“Same thing, innit?” Eggsy said, gleeful, knowing full well it was winding Harry up.

Harry shook his head, exasperated, and at the same time delighting in the fact that Eggsy was so comfortable with him now that all of this was allowed and accepted, Harry walking into Eggsy’s council flat in his Savile Row suit and holding his baby sister before he was introduced to the social worker.

“I shall leave you to it,” Harry said, rising and brushing this time actual crumbs off himself, and forestalled Eggsy’s protests with a quiet word about Junior being there for a specific purpose, and a gentleman not standing in the way of that.

“You gentlemen are bare dull sometimes,” Eggsy told him at the door, and Harry didn’t quite understand it, but he knew it was something of an insult.

Still, the smile that followed it told Harry it wasn’t quite as harsh as it could have been. Harry left considering he had, in fact, made the right decision to come after all.

* * * * *

“She’s down,” Eggsy said, hearing the relief in his own voice as he pulled the door to the bedroom to. “Think she might actually stay that way for a bit now, cross fingers.”

Roxy held up both hands, both with crossed fingers, then looked at them and crossed her hands over one another as well. He grinned at her and grabbed beers out of the fridge on the way back to her.

“This is upmarket,” Roxy said when he handed her one. “Bottled beer now? We are moving up in the world.”

“Yeah well, it’s not quite your standard,” Eggsy replied, no heat in it. “But I got a bit of money now, so I thought I’d splash out, give the cans a miss for a night, yeah?” In all honesty, if he’d been drinking as much as he used to he probably wouldn’t have bothered, but since having Daisy he rarely had time to drink any more, so it was nice to splash out and feel at least a tiny bit more sophisticated when he did partake.

“Darling, we both know you could never reach my standard,” Roxy said, and grinned at him when he shoved her gently, not bothering to resist. She wasn’t wrong, exactly, maybe. Roxy did come from a different world from him, and it was weird that they were still friends. They’d met as teenagers, Roxy going to the posh private girls’ school down the road from Eggsy’s bog-standard comprehensive, and he’d asked her out on a dare, his mates convinced he was going to get shot down and stupidly jealous when that didn’t happen. They’d dated for only a month or two before they quickly worked out that there wasn’t really any attraction there, but a friendship had formed and somehow it had been maintained into their adult years.

He’d always fully accepted that they ran in different circles, having no desire to join hers nor she his, apart from the small crossover that they occupied together, but he wondered for a brief moment if he wasn’t starting to be a little bit more like her, what with his new wardrobe and his developing _manners_. He’d never thought of himself as not having manners, always said please and thank you to bus drivers and all that, but in Harry’s world there were so many manners it seemed like he might as well have been farting straight at the Queen before.

Eggsy thought about mentioning this, then dismissed it. “I think she’s over the worst of it now,” he said, taking a drink. “I hope so, anyway.” He pulled a face. “Changing diarrhoea nappies is rank.”

“Ugh,” said Roxy, barely swallowing her own mouthful, “so is sharing it with your friends.”

He shot her a grin. “If I’ve gotta put up with it, you’ve gotta put up with it,” he said. “Harry doesn’t complain.” He didn’t bother mentioning that Jamal, Brandon and Liam all had, some a bit more vocally than Roxy, since it didn’t support his point.

“Yeah, well,” Roxy rolled her eyes, “we know Harry’s perfect, we can’t all be like him.”

Eggsy frowned at her, confused. “What d’you mean?”

Roxy raised an eyebrow at him. “Harry, who can’t put a foot wrong?” She kicked Eggsy’s leg lightly, to show she was joking, sort of. “I know he’s your new best friend. It’s okay.” She took a drink while Eggsy tried to work out what to say to that. “You might want to break it carefully to Jamal though.”

Eggsy thought for several seconds before saying, “No, seriously, what do you mean?” Roxy frowned at him. “Harry’s just like, my boss, innit.” He thought for a second about calling Harry his guv’nor and Harry’s hilarious response, but pushed the thought away before he started smiling.

They stared at each other for a good few seconds. Eventually, Roxy said, “It’s just that… you talk about him a _lot_. I don’t mean that’s a problem, it’s great that you’re such good friends with him.”

Eggsy got the feeling there was more she wasn’t saying, but she didn’t show any signs of wanting to, turning back to her beer instead.

“Well,” he said carefully, “it’s just me and him most of the time, innit? I spend most of my days with him or Daisy, and Daisy don’t talk a lot, so…” He picked at the label on his bottle. “Sorry if it’s too much or whatever.”

“No, I told you,” said Roxy, shaking her head, “It’s fine.” There was another pause. “It’s just that… sometimes it seems more like, maybe you like him.”

Eggsy frowned, nonplussed. “Course I like him.”

“I mean…” She was speaking delicately, like the words were made of glass, “as more than a friend?”

It took longer than it should have to work out what she was saying.

“Like, you think I fancy him?” Eggsy asked, a little bit shocked.

Roxy shrugged a shoulder at him, with a face that said _yep_.

He laughed. “Rox, you know I’m not gay. He is, but-” He realised he’d made a mistake when her eyes widened over the rim of her beer bottle. “It’s not catching, man.”

“ _Obviously_ ,” she said, rolling her eyes so hard it must have hurt. “But him being gay doesn’t preclude you being gay, either. Anyway,” she hurried as he opened his mouth, “I didn’t say you _were_ gay. You can fancy both women and men, you know.”

“Nah, is it?” he asked in a sarcastic tone. He was annoyed, but he didn’t really know why, and that only made him more annoyed. He frowned at his hands. “I don’t fancy him, Rox. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but… I don’t.”

“Okay,” she said, on a little bit of a sigh. “If you say so.”

He frowned at her. “I don’t! I should know.”

“All right, all right,” she said, holding her hands up. “I’ll take your word for it. Let’s change the subject.”

They did, easily enough, and the rest of the evening passed smoothly until he watched her get into a taxi around half one. It was only later, as he caught sight of the second-hand sewing machine on the kitchen table when he was gathering up the bottles for recycling, that he started to wonder. He’d told Roxy he should know if he fancied Harry or not. He _should_ know… but the truth was, he wasn’t entirely sure if he did.

Despite the alcohol, it took a while for sleep to claim him that night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter could be subtitled Everybody Frowns a Lot.
> 
> Guys, I just wanted to say I'm really excited to see how many people are enjoying this. I really appreciate all of your kudos and comments, especially when this deals with some unfortunately much more realistic bad stuff than the movies do.

“How’s this?” Eggsy asked Harry, holding out a jacket he’d been altering. He glanced at Harry as he asked the question, but his eyes dropped immediately back to the jacket. Harry stood from his work table to examine it, and Eggsy took a small but noticeable step back, holding the jacket almost at arm’s length, like it was dangerous. Or perhaps like being too close to Harry was dangerous.

Harry shook the thought off, as he’d been doing for the past few days. He reached out to inspect the various seams Eggsy had worked on, noting out loud how much neater he’d become in just the last couple of weeks.

When he glanced up, he saw a pleased smile cross Eggsy’s face as he too considered his own work, but as soon as his eyes met Harry’s the smile disappeared, replaced with downcast eyes and lips twisted to the side. Harry looked back to the jacket, his own expression falling. He brought his attention back to the matter at hand.

“This here is a little uneven,” he said, directing Eggsy to hold the jacket up so he could indicate points on opposite sides, “but it’s barely noticeable. Only if one were looking for it.”

Eggsy nodded sharply. “I can bring that up again, yeah?”

“To make it perfect, yes,” Harry agreed. He couldn’t say why, as it wasn’t a conscious decision, but he spent longer looking the work over than he would normally, knowing really that there wasn’t much else to say. Eggsy didn’t comment, but he shifted on his feet after a minute or so of this close inspection.

Eventually, finding nothing more to consider, Harry stood back. “Good work, Eggsy,” he said, smiling because it deserved to be said with a smile, although he didn’t feel it.

“Thanks,” Eggsy said, nodding in recognition, not attempting a smile of his own, and turned to go back to his own work station.

Harry couldn’t bear it any longer. He’d been dealing with this for almost three days now, this closed-off version of Eggsy who was working diligently, getting as much right as could be expected of someone with his level of experience, yet was personally barely there. He’d politely refused Harry’s offers of lunch on Monday and today, giving flimsy excuses. He was keeping their non-work related exchanges to the bare minimum, although he wasn’t being cold about it, and Harry knew for certain if he’d asked Amos if he thought there was a problem Amos would have simply said no, Eggsy seemed fine.

Harry was concerned about Eggsy. If he were being very honest with himself, he was also missing him. He didn’t look too closely at what motivated him to raise the matter.

“Eggsy,” he said, just after the young man had sat down again. Eggsy looked up. “Could you… could we discuss something, please?” He found himself tripping over the words, realising this wasn’t a work-related matter and therefore he couldn’t treat it as such. This wasn’t a manager speaking to his subordinate. This was a man speaking to his… well, that much still wasn’t quite clear. Perhaps it should be before conversations such as this took place, but that wasn’t going to stop Harry.

Eggsy got to his feet again, a tiny frown appearing on his brow, and he made to bring the jacket with him. “No, it’s not about the jacket,” Harry said, turning his head away to collect his thoughts as Eggsy took the few steps towards him, slowly.

“What’s it about?” Eggsy asked, sounding as though he didn’t really want to know the answer.

It took Harry several beats to find the words. “You’ve been…” Then several more. “I’m a little worried about you,” he settled on, which was at least half-true.

Eggsy shifted his weight. “Nothin’ to worry about,” he said quietly, face scrunched up a little, like the look he gave Harry when Harry’s explanations on the finer points of tailoring, or manners, or anything really became too detailed for him to follow.

“You’ve been,” Harry began again, “…acting a little oddly this week.”

Eggsy didn’t move an inch.

Harry realised he was going to have to search for the answer he wanted.

“Did something happen with… the arrangements for Daisy?”

“No,” Eggsy shook his head. “She’s fine. We’re fine.” There was a half-second’s pause. “You’re still okay with me taking a couple hours next week for the assessment, yeah? Junior couldn’t do-”

“Of course, of course,” Harry waved him off, wanting to reassure him that wasn’t his point. They were very much talking at cross-purposes, it seemed. “I was just… wondering.” A thought occurred, then. “I didn’t cause any problems with your social worker, did I?”

“What?” asked Eggsy.

“I mean… I don’t know if my being – at your flat – caused any issues, or misunderstandings, or…” He wasn’t entirely sure himself what he meant, since he couldn’t identify anything he’d done that was indecorous, but it was something that might possibly account for Eggsy’s lukewarm manner towards him of late.

“Nah,” Eggsy said, “nah, bruv.” He still looked confused.

“Then…” Harry said, unsure where else to take it. Eggsy just kept staring at him.

“My dear boy,” Harry said, the tension too much to resist, “I’m _worried_ about you.” He wondered, afterwards, that he had the strength not to add _You’ve been avoiding me and I miss you_ , which was actually the point, but he did at least appear to have enough sense left to hold that back.

Eggsy’s face registered those words, anyway. The confusion dropped away a little into something like worry himself, maybe a little shock, as his eyes widened.

“If you’re having… personal problems, _any_ problems, that’s fine, of course,” Harry said, babbling, “but please don’t feel you need to hide them from… here.” He barely caught himself saying _from me_. “If it’s just that you don’t want to share, then, absolutely, I will – we will respect that, but please know… you can if you wish.” He lost his head a little bit. “I am… here for you.”

He knew, distantly in the back of his head, and where he would examine it and berate himself later when safely he had the chance, that he was showing his hand a little too much. It honestly wasn’t an attempt at manipulation, it was just that his feelings around the young man became too much sometimes, and apparently worse when he received almost nothing back. It was as if Eggsy becoming distant meant he needed to become closer to overbearing in order to achieve the same balance as before. It was ridiculous, and part of him couldn’t wait for the time when it would be over and he would be able to regard the boy as nothing more than a familiar colleague, whilst another part was masochistically enjoying the pleasurable agony of unrequited desire.

Regardless of the war going on in his mind, and the moments he’d slipped up, he didn’t think Eggsy would pick up on what he wasn’t saying. The young man was sharp, but inexperienced in many areas of life, and came from a world where emotions ran close to the surface, often spilling over into arguments or raucous celebrations. Harry’s own buttoned-down don’t-ask-don’t-tell existence was a different thing entirely.

Eggsy’s face had changed as Harry spoke, his brows smoothing and furrowing again, and in the silent moments after Harry finished his stuttering declaration of… something, Eggsy’s expression settled on somewhere close to neutral.

It was a little disconcerting.

“Thanks, Harry,” Eggsy said, meeting his eyes fully now. He was still quiet. He bit his lip, and Harry’s gaze was drawn to it, unbidden, before he spoke again. “I ‘ppreciate it.”

Harry drew in a breath through his nostrils, answering, “Good,” on the exhale. They regarded each other for another few seconds, though it felt less tense than it had been. “Just so long as you know,” Harry said, still wanting to understand but somehow now _needing_ it less urgently.

Eggsy nodded, and then when Harry nodded in return, twitching a brief smile and half-turning away, Eggsy turned too, and by the time Harry looked back his young employee was back at his work station, focused again on the careful stitching of the jacket.

It was only later, turning the exchange over again in his mind, that Harry wondered if perhaps Eggsy _had_ read between the lines, seen what Harry was part-intentionally and part-automatically trying to keep in check. But there was no way to know without asking; it was a Schrödinger’s cat of a question, and he wasn’t about to open the box.

* * * * *

“Okay,” Junior said, flipping over another bit of paper, whilst Eggsy sat on the sofa and tried to think whether he’d missed anything in answering the question _What do you do for Daisy on a typical day?_. Junior was warm and friendly and inspired trust, and gave absolutely nothing away. Usually once or twice a session Eggsy wanted to ask if he was getting this right, but at the same time he didn’t want to appear so under-confident with himself that _that_ would be a mark against him.

“I’d like to talk about the caring arrangements for Daisy,” Junior said, and Eggsy found himself frowning before he could stop it. Junior was at least still looking at his papers, so Eggsy had a chance to smooth it out before he looked up. “Obviously you’ve got a full time job, which is great, means you can provide for her and shows her a good work ethic,” he glanced up at this point to smile at Eggsy, who smiled back, “so then that does mean she requires childcare. Tell me about the arrangements you’ve got in place at the moment.”

He sat, his pen poised, looking expectantly at Eggsy, and Eggsy felt the now-familiar low tingle of worry that he’d better make whatever came out of his mouth good, because it was going to be written down in Junior’s notebook for good. No backsies.

Eggsy thought Junior probably knew most of this anyway, from their previous conversations, but then he often asked questions he already knew the answers to – had told Eggsy that straight out, saying sometimes he just had to for the process and sometimes it helped to get clarity.

“Well,” Eggsy said, “She goes to nursery three mornin’s a week. Er, Sunny Care. Rochelle helped get that, so it’s paid for outta… some fund.” Junior nodded his head as he wrote, and Eggsy figured he must know the details. “Then those afternoons, on two of ‘em my mate Jamal has her. He’s got like, nine brothers and sisters, and he’s the oldest, so it’s nothing to him. He just says it’s nice to get paid,” Eggsy grinned, and Junior laughed. “Then on the other afternoon my mom’s neighbour has her, Deanna – well, they’re not really neighbours no more, they used to live like next door but then Deanna moved a few roads away, but she’s close enough still they… used to see each other a lot.” Eggsy realised he had no idea if Deanna and his mum still spoke, despite seeing both of them now at least twice a week. Neither of them spoke about the other, anyway, and maybe the situation with Daisy had done that.

“Anyway, Deanna has her another day as well, and then my mate Brandon’s mum, Laura, she has her the other day. And my mates Liam or Brandon will usually get her from nursery and take her to Deanna’s, ‘cause she can’t travel far. But she’s fine in the house and that, you know, lookin’ after her.”

Junior didn’t reply for a few seconds, still writing down what Eggsy had told him. Eggsy waited, anxious for the next question.

Eventually, Junior looked up. “That’s a lot of people,” he said, in a tone that didn’t say anything about what he was thinking. “So you’ve got yourself, the nursery, Jamal, Deanna, Laura and then sometimes Liam or Brandon as well.”

“Just to fetch her,” Eggsy said, not sure if that made it better or worse. “Not for long, like.”

Junior nodded to show he’d heard. “And then your mum, of course, as well, when she comes for contact. How do you think having all those people care for her impacts Daisy?”

Eggsy couldn’t _hear_ judgement in Junior’s voice, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t judging. It didn’t help that he’d been worrying about the same thing himself, particularly one day last week where he was almost halfway to Deanna’s before he realised Daisy wasn’t there, she was with Jamal, and he had to get off the tube and get back on again going in the other direction. He’d been twenty minutes late to pick her up and she was screaming hungry by the time they got home, maybe screaming to tell him off for forgetting her – sort of – as well.

“She knows all these people,” he said, more sharply than he’d intended. “She’s known most of ‘em since she was born, ‘cept maybe Brandon’s mum and the nursery. And Brandon’s mum used to work in a nursery, before she had him, and those people are meant to be the best, right? But all these other people, they _know her_. It’s not like she’s just bein’ passed around strangers. If I ever thought she didn’t wanna go to someone, I wouldn’t take her, honest. Even if it meant losing my job I wouldn’t, I’d keep her with me. But I don’t think it would anyway; my guv’nor, he’s well decent.”

“I get that,” Junior said, probably trying to calm Eggsy down, but he didn’t really register it.

“Anyway,” Eggsy continued, with a frown, “would you be worried if I was a single mum? Doin’ the same thing? Makin’ ends meet? ‘Cause that’s all I’m doing, but I swear down I would never put Daisy in any situation that’s bad for her.”

Junior held his hands out at that, and Eggsy sat back a little, taking a breath. “It – wasn’t meant as a judgement, Eggsy. Really, just a question I needed to ask.” Eggsy nodded sharply. “The impact could be good, as well as bad.” Eggsy looked at him, frowning. “It might be that for Daisy, having a big network of people to care for her means she’s got lots of choices, freedom, exposure to different things. And it probably means it’s less likely to get overwhelming for you if one of those arrangements breaks down, because you’ve got a few people to fall back on.”

“Yeah,” Eggsy said. “Yeah.” He felt a bit stupid now, the fire dying down in him. It seemed he was judging himself more harshly than Junior was, at least on this.

Junior moved on to his next question, apparently forgiving Eggsy his little outburst, and it made it a lot easier for him to keep going.

They were almost at the end, Junior starting to put his papers away, when Junior made reference to the reason why he was actually here. “I’m just curious,” he said, getting Eggsy’s attention again as he’d been prepared to see Junior out, “did your mum say anything to you about leaving Dean?”

Eggsy rolled his eyes. “She tells me she will most times she comes here. I ain’t asking, most of the time, ‘cause… I can’t believe her even when she says it. But she tells me, almost like she’s try’na tell Daisy. I’m just glad Daisy can’t understand it.”

Junior tilted his head, looking a bit like a confused dog. “You saw her last… yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

“And she didn’t say she had?”

Eggsy frowned. “No. Why? Did she?”

“Apparently,” Junior said, a little frown on his own face. “She told Rochelle she’d left him… hm, I think three days ago.”

Eggsy leaned back into the sofa, as if trying to absorb the information, then snorted. “Well, she didn’t bother mentioning it to me,” he said, shaking his head. “That was one of the few times she didn’t talk about leaving him, actually.” He frowned. “Do you think that means she might actually do it?”

Junior took a few seconds to answer, and Eggsy knew what that meant. “It’s very difficult to end an abusive relationship,” he said, clearly choosing his words carefully. “I obviously couldn’t say for certain, but…”

“You think she’s gonna go back to him,” Eggsy finished, taking pity on him. He sighed and tipped his head back. “Well, guess that’s no different from a few days ago.” He got up, frustrated at the subject. “I’ll see you next week, yeah?”

Junior took the cue and left without making further comment on it. Eggsy was glad for that, but it took a long while to shake the thoughts the conversation had stirred.

* * * * *

Things between Harry and his young employee seemed almost back to normal. A couple of weeks had passed since Eggsy’s distant behaviour and Harry’s offer of support, and although the boy hadn’t taken him up on it, he had at least begun to show small glimpses of the way he’d been towards Harry before, almost thawing out over the intervening days. It made Harry stupidly happy and he did not bother to fight it.

Today was the second day in a row he’d offered lunch, feeling like it might actually be welcomed, and Eggsy had indeed accepted.

It was as they were just sitting down, plates of re-heated chicken biryani in front of them, that Eggsy said, “Harry, can I ask you a question?”

Harry smiled. “I think you’ve just answered that for yourself.”

Eggsy scrunched up his face for half a second in confusion before rolling his eyes. “You know what I mean. _May_ I ask you a question?”

“Aside from the one…” Harry tailed off, as he could see Eggsy getting more annoyed, so it was clearly something important. “Of course you may.”

Eggsy nodded, but then instead of doing so he looked at his plate and, after a moment, took a forkful of food instead and brought it to his mouth. Harry, detecting that this question might take some time, did the same.

“When did you know you were gay?” Eggsy blurted, barely having finished swallowing his mouthful. Harry looked at him, still chewing, as Eggsy seemed to be fighting to keep his eyes on Harry’s. He appreciated the effort.

He took a quick drink once he’d swallowed the biryani, before answering. “I think I always knew.”

Eggsy frowned at that, and Harry surmised he wanted more. “There was never really any flash of lightning sort of moment. I had a couple of girlfriends, even, in my teenage years, but… that was mostly because it seemed the thing to do, rather than any real desire on my part, and then when I became a bit older, it became clearer why…”

He paused, and Eggsy clearly thought it was the end. “So when you had girlfriends, you knew then?”

Harry took another forkful of biryani while he considered his words, and noted distantly that Eggsy wasn’t eating, staring intently at Harry. He gestured towards Eggsy’s plate without meaning to, and Eggsy glanced down at it and then took a mouthful as though it hadn’t even occurred to him to question Harry’s wordless command. That simple action made something rush through Harry’s blood, something it was definitely not the right time to examine.

“I knew I was attracted to men,” he said. “I knew that I wanted to be closer to them than was socially acceptable, than men were supposed to want. But it hadn’t yet occurred to me that that meant I felt differently about women than most men do. I suppose I sort of thought that most men got married because they had to, rather than out of any particular desire. My own parents were never very demonstrative, and… it was only really when I observed my peers start talking about their own sweethearts in such a… romantic way, that I realised I was the odd one out there, too. Even then it took me a while longer to understand what that really meant.”

They ate another few mouthfuls in silence, Eggsy clearly processing Harry’s words, while Harry was taken back to those long-ago realisations, the calcification of his identity, at that time seeming to be a doomed existence. He was supremely glad those fears had not been realised. He may not have ended up with a life partner for decades, but he’d had relationships – some good ones, even – and he’d avoided the AIDS epidemic by some combination of care and luck, and had built himself a fairly successful life in most respects. It was certainly more than he could have dared to hope for in those terrifying days of the early eighties.

“So… what did you do when you realised?”

“Nothing, really.” Harry smiled slightly at Eggsy’s raised eyebrows. “There wasn’t much one _could_ do. There was no one I could tell, at the time. I didn’t know enough to know there were places I could go – or rather, where they were. I just knew I shouldn’t be bringing a woman into my own… inclinations. So I became, essentially, a bachelor until my thirties, when things started to change a little.”

“Wait, so…” Eggsy frowned. “Does that mean you never had sex till you was in your thirties?”

Harry’s lips quirked. “Well,” he said, “not quite.” Eggsy frowned at him. “There were ways and means,” was all Harry said, and all he was going _to_ say to this gorgeous and unavailable creature.

Eggsy apparently picked up that Harry wasn’t telling, because he shook his head and applied himself to his food once more.

Harry was just about to ask Eggsy what had brought this line of questioning on, when Eggsy spoke again. “So like… you never had a proper moment? Like, staring at a man and just being like, I wanna tap that – I’m gay?”

Harry was surprised by the laugh that erupted from his throat, at the idea that he would have thought something even slightly like that. Eggsy grinned at him, and it made him laugh harder. “No,” he said, once the laughter had subsided, “I can assure you those words never crossed my mind.”

“You know what I mean, though,” Eggsy said, still grinning. “You never thought… ooh, that gentleman is so… dapper, I’d like to see his brogues under my bed in the morning.” He did a terrible impersonation of Harry’s accent, and it set off another round of laughter.

“No,” Harry said eventually. “It was a very slow process, more the idea of men in general than any one man, really.” Certainly, there were men along the way who’d been, one could say, waypoints on his road of realisation, but no one man who’d lit the touchpaper as Eggsy seemed to be suggesting.

“Right,” said Eggsy, nodding. He returned his attention to the last few bites of his meal.

It didn’t seem he was going to offer any explanation for the curiosity, and yet Harry felt it was significant, given that he hadn’t led the conversation anywhere else. Still, he knew his own hopes about why Eggsy was asking were more than likely due to his own feelings rather than anything to do with the younger man.

“What makes you ask… all this?” Harry asked, referring to the whole conversation.

Eggsy looked up suddenly, as if startled, and opened his mouth for a second before closing it again. Harry raised his eyebrows.

“No reason,” Eggsy said after another two or three pregnant seconds, shaking his head.

Harry didn’t believe him. He waited.

“Junior was… asking about sexuality and that in the assessment,” Eggsy said. “Like, identity, and what that means, and… yeah, it just… made me wonder. That’s all.”

It was a possible explanation, Harry supposed. What Eggsy had told him so far about the assessment suggested it was fairly involved, and could well have included questions about Eggsy’s sexuality.

But there was still a part of him – and he really wasn’t sure whether it was influenced by his own feelings, or something external – that didn’t quite believe the younger man.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incidentally, this story was partly inspired by a friend of mine at university, and recalling a certain moment with her. She came to uni with a boyfriend who she’d been with for about three years, identifying as straight. She left with a girlfriend about fifteen years her senior. They married not long after, and I’m pretty sure they have kids now. I can remember vividly the moment I came into uni and sat down and she blurted, “I have something I need to tell you – I’ve got a girlfriend!” and we both burst into shocked laughter. She told me she had no idea how it happened, one day this woman was her manager in her part-time job who she’d become friends with and the next night they were a bit drunk and kissing. It’s always made me quite happy, that story, knowing that people really are more fluid than we think, and that we can still be surprised by our own selves, even if it’s a bit daunting when it occurs. So there we are: Eggsy, you’re not the first, and you certainly won’t be the last.

Eggsy was, at least, self-aware enough to know that he was having a bit of a crisis.

It felt ever-so-slightly comforting to know that he could at least notice that much about himself, since apparently other personal attributes which were quite obvious to other people were news to him. That being said, it didn’t in any way lessen the jangling nerves he was having about the aforementioned crisis.

It was a Friday, two days after he’d grilled Harry about his sexuality. After spending the morning yet again far too distracted in the shop – at this rate, he was going to lose his job before he got a chance to figure out anything else – and running through various scenarios in his head about how to start the conversation he knew they needed to have, eventually he blurted, “So, got any plans for the weekend, Harry?” in the middle of checking the fit of a nameless, faceless customer’s bespoke suit.

Harry, who was at the desk waiting to take payment should the suit be finished to the customer’s liking – which it bloody should be, on fitting number _five_ \- looked up sharply, with a warning jerk of his eyebrows. Eggsy had glanced up enough to see that, then concentrated back on the gentleman’s cuffs, calling himself a moron inside his head.

He hadn’t known whether Harry was going to answer, but as it turned out it seemed ignoring the question entirely was more rude than having a non-work based conversation between colleagues in front of a customer, so as he moved from smoothing down the left sleeve to the right one Harry said, “Not especially, no. Aside from finishing the wedding order.”

“Oh, yeah,” Eggsy said, and fought hard not to keep the conversation going. Instead he forced his attention to Mr Nameless and asked, “How does that feel, sir?”

The door had just closed behind the _finally_ satisfied customer when Eggsy turned to Harry and said, “You gonna work late tonight then, or start fresh on it tomorrow?”

He was fairly certain that Harry thought he was being odd, since he frowned for a split-second at him before answering, “I’ll stay a little late, but I’ll do the bulk on Sunday,” but for some reason the man apparently wasn’t in the mood to start questioning him again, not that Eggsy would have blamed him. Eggsy was relieved, though, as he went through to the back to pick up on his own part of that order, since he hadn’t got a clue how he would have explained himself to Harry without spilling everything, and it really was not the time.

A bit of a better plan in mind, then, he managed to get through the afternoon without anything too awful happening. Then the second Harry flipped the sign on the door to read ‘closed’, Eggsy (who was already hovering in the doorway from the back) said, “Harry, can I talk to you about something?”

Harry turned, not startled because he wasn’t that sort of bloke but obviously a little bit surprised, by his face, and said, “Of course.” He motioned to the back. “Shall we sit?”

Eggsy turned, listening intently to Harry following him as he made his way to the lunch table, but when he got there he felt a surge of anxiety and said, “Actually, you know what, I need to stand up, I think. You… go ahead.”

“That’s fine,” said Harry, coming to a stop then on the other side of the table, and standing with his hands in his pockets, which… Eggsy was really starting to notice how he felt about things like that, and it was both helpful and really, really not for this conversation. Eggsy took a deep breath and leaned a little against the counter behind him, one hand braced against it. He fought down the stupid feeling that this was going to turn into a fight, that he needed to keep a clear path to the door, that there was a tiger about to pounce on him because he knew – and he wouldn’t have been saying a word otherwise – that even if this went the worst possible way, it still wouldn’t be anything like that because this was Harry and Harry was…

Harry was looking at him, and starting to look quite concerned.

Eggsy swallowed, noticing how dry his mouth had gone. “So…” he said, mostly just to see if he could actually make a noise, and then swallowed again. “So like… I need to tell you something.”

Harry nodded his head once, indicating for Eggsy to go on. He looked concerned and interested and all other sorts of things all at once and he was just… fucking perfect.

It was that thought that gave Eggsy the strength to say, words almost running together as one, “I’m starting to get feelings for you.”

Immediately, a rush of embarrassment filled Eggsy at the stupid, _stupid_ choice of words. What, like feelings for Harry was something he could _catch_? Eggsy breathed a frustrated huff, ducking his head and running his fingers through his hair, but when he raised it again he saw Harry, who’d done absolutely nothing but cock his head to the side slightly and… he didn’t know what to do with that.

“I don’t know,” Eggsy said, soldiering on because fuck it, he’d done harder things than this, right? “I don’t know if it’s just because you been so… so nice to me and decent and that – like, way more than most people would – do – _are_ \- and obviously, I know _you’re_ gay but like, I never thought I was, and so, I don’t have a problem with it, if I am, but…”

He’d only paused to collect his thoughts, but Harry stole his focus by saying quietly, “Well, obviously you do.”

Eggsy stared at him stupidly, not following the train of conversation.

“At least to some extent,” Harry continued, “or you wouldn’t have brought it up,” and Eggsy’s eyes widened with realisation.

“Oh. Oh! No, I mean… I don’t know, maybe I do, but I don’t think I do, I just, I don’t know if it’s like, you being gay that makes me… think of you that way? I don’t even know if that makes sense,” and Eggsy threw his head back, frustrated, and just barely stopping the words turning into a whine because it did matter what Harry thought of him, regardless of what he thought about this revelation and he didn’t want to come across like a child.

He huffed again, and said, “I don’t know what to do.”

It was after about three seconds of silence that Eggsy realised he was completely relying on Harry here to tell him what to do, and the fact that Harry wasn’t talking was making him really nervous. Slowly, he lowered his eyes from the ceiling, down until they met Harry’s.

Harry hadn’t moved, and his face gave nothing away.

“Fuck,” said Eggsy, with feeling, “I’m sorry.” He covered his face with his hands, briefly, then drew them away to speak. “I shouldn’t have told you, I messed everything up.” He shook his head. “I didn’t wanna make things awkward, I just-“

“No,” said Harry, breaking into Eggsy’s rambling, and Eggsy looked at him properly, drawn to the man’s eyes which were showing _something_ now, though he didn’t know what. “No, I’m sorry. I was… looking for the right words.”

Eggsy stared at him, no idea what that meant or how to respond.

Harry cleared his throat quietly, and said, “Your feelings are mutual.”

After a full two seconds of silence, after finding no other better words, Eggsy said, “What?” He was totally aware of how stupid it sounded, but it was all he had.

Harry quirked his lips, and that in itself seemed to cut half the tension in the room at once. Eggsy physically felt himself sagging down a bit.

“I also have… some feelings for you. That is to say, I am attracted to you.” He did that tiny split-second frown again. “Your other feelings, however, I’m afraid I’m rather past those. I am quite certain of my identity.”

Eggsy nodded dazedly. “Yeah,” he said.

They stared at each other for another few seconds, though it didn’t feel nearly as awkward as before.

“Thanks,” Eggsy said, eventually, smiling, and more so when Harry smiled back at him. “For bein’, like, decent about it. For bein’ you, I guess,” he said with a little half-laugh. “Well, that’s why…” He waved his hand vaguely, trying to encompass _why I like you and why I told you_.

Harry was still smiling. “I do my best to resemble a decent human being,” he said.

Eggsy realised suddenly that beyond his worries about how to bring this up with Harry, he had no idea where he expected this to go next. But Harry, being Harry, must have either worked this out or had dealt with far too many people confessing their feelings for him before – which weirded Eggsy out a bit to think about, so he pushed that aside – because then he said, “I’m glad you told me,” and then, straight after, “Now, are you going to stay here and help me with the Nahib party’s waistcoats, or are you going to start enjoying your weekend like a normal man?”

Eggsy actually thought about it for a second or two before realising, “Oh. I’ve gotta get Daisy,” thumbing at the door like she was just outside.

Harry just smiled and said, “Of course,” because of course _he_ had remembered that, and then they said some only slightly awkward and more kind of warm goodbyes before he was out the shop and heading for the tube station, and feeling like that tiger from earlier had come for him but at the last second just given him a big cuddle instead and licked him on the face before ambling away.

Eggsy needed to get Daisy onto a new bedtime story beyond _The Tiger Who Came to Tea_.

* * * * *

“Come on then,” Hamish said, setting a Guinness down on the table in front of Harry and keeping a glass of Scotch for himself, “let’s hear it.”

“Hear what?” Harry replied, picking up the Guinness to take a sip. He glanced around the pub, not like he hadn’t been doing that for the past five minutes Hamish was at the bar, and brought his eyes back to Hamish’s very unimpressed look.

“Whatever it is you’ve been tightly packing down inside that wee repressed body of yours and trying not to say since we got here,” said Hamish, and they both shared a smile. Harry’s difficulty in expressing himself fully was one of the things that Hamish had struggled with when they were together, whilst Harry conversely had found Hamish’s no-nonsense, no-hesitance declarations just as hard to handle. They’d both grown since then, thankfully, and they’d long been able to laugh about it.

Harry took another sip before saying, “I haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean.”

Hamish stared at him for several long seconds before saying, “You’re still in love with me, aren’t ye.”

He didn’t intonate it as a question, which was fine since Harry felt it didn’t deserve a response. Nevertheless, he found himself saying, “With you? I rather think not.”

“Aha!” said Hamish. “With someone else, then.”

Harry smiled a little. “No, Hamish.”

There was another silence whilst Harry tried to work out if he wanted to tell Hamish what his friend had correctly identified was playing on his mind. Before he’d reached any conclusion, though, Hamish said, “It _is_ a romantic matter, though,” and Harry must have shown something that he didn’t mean to because a slow smile spread across Hamish’s face after as he said, “I knew it.”

Harry was a bit cross at that. “You didn’t know it,” he said, frowning a little at his pint. “You guessed it.”

“Guessed pretty bloody close,” Hamish shrugged it off. “So, then. Who’s the lucky chap?”

Harry sighed, folding his hands to sit in his lap because otherwise he was liable to get drunk before he realised he was tipsy. “Nothing’s going to come of it.”

Hamish raised an eyebrow. “Well that’s quite defeatist for the Harry I know. Married, is he?”

Harry scoffed. “Hardly.”

“Oh.” Hamish’s tone was thoughtful. “Divorced?”

“No… Are we going to play twenty questions?”

“Play as many questions as you like. Or ye could just _tell me_.”

“I hate you,” Harry said simply, then sighed again and proceeded to tell him about his conversation with Eggsy the evening before, the one where they’d both admitted to having feelings for one another.

When he eventually concluded with, “And then he left,” there was a second or two before Hamish’s look of intense interest turned into one of intense glee. “I hate you, to be clear,” Harry said again, because it needed to be said.

Hamish threw back his head and laughed, an annoying, booming laugh that drew the notice of at least three other patrons until they caught Harry scowling at them and hurriedly turned away. The laugh was very obviously forced and deliberately orchestrated to get on Harry’s nerves, and it succeeded disgustingly well.

“I knew it!” he said, when he’d stopped his fake laughing. “I knew you wanted him.”

“You knew nothing of the sort,” Harry said crossly, and took a deep pull this time on his Guinness.

“No, I didn’t,” Hamish admitted easily, shrugging a shoulder, “but I’m not surprised. He was cute. But oh dear, Harry,” he shook his head dramatically, “I never knew ye wanted to be some twink’s daddy.”

“He’s not a twink,” Harry replied, very carefully restraining himself from snapping. “He doesn’t even know if he likes men, for fuck’s sake.” He saw Hamish’s eyebrows rise at the swearing and ignored it. “It could just be misplaced gratitude for giving him a chance.”

“I note you didn’t protest you being a daddy, though,” Hamish said, and Harry threw a coaster at him. It bounced off his chest and onto the floor and Hamish just grinned.

“I do _not_ want to be his daddy,” he said clearly, making sure there was no mistake. “Or anyone else’s, for that matter. Anyway,” a thought occurred to him, “if anyone’s a daddy it’s him. He’s looking after an actual child.”

“He’s got a kid?” Hamish asked, sounding surprised.

Harry explained about the Daisy situation.

“Wow,” said Hamish, at least a little calmed down now. “That’s a lot to be getting on with. Are you sure you know what you’re getting into?”

“It’s not me who’s raising the child,” Harry said.

“No, but your…” Hamish waved his hand, “paramour is.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t know that we’re getting into anything,” he said, before taking another sip of his drink. Hamish was clearly waiting for more. “I really don’t. Like I said, he doesn’t even know if he really has feelings for me – beyond gratitude, or… curiosity, or something. We didn’t discuss anything further.”

Hamish raised his eyebrows in a way that telegraphed _You’re an idiot_ as he lifted his glass to his mouth. “Looks like you’re getting into something from here. Whether ye know it or not.”

Sometimes, Harry really hated Hamish.

* * * * *

It was never a good sign to find three missed calls from the nursery on your phone.

“Fuck,” Eggsy said under his breath as he called them back. It was half one, a couple of hours since he’d last checked his phone, though at least the first call didn’t seem to be from that long ago.

“Sunny Care,” a bright voice answered.

“Hi,” he said, “it’s Eggsy, Daisy’s brother, I got some missed calls?”

“Ah, Daisy, yes!” said the woman who almost always answered the phone and whose name Eggsy could never remember. He’d never met her when dropping Daisy off and he wasn’t actually sure if she even physically worked there. “Yes, she’s not been collected.”

Eggsy’s eyes went to the clock on the wall automatically, reading the time he already knew it was, and only then realised she should have been picked up an hour ago. “Oh my god,” he said. “Jamal didn’t get her?”

“No,” she said, “we have been ringing him, but we haven’t been getting an answer.”

“Shit,” Eggsy said. “Okay, okay, I’m on my way. I’m so sorry.” He started grabbing at his bag, checking his keys were in it, looking frantically for his phone for a second or two before realising it was in his hand.

“Okay, thanks very much! We’ll see you shortly,” the lady trilled, and ended the call.

“Fuck,” Eggsy said, much less under his breath this time. He called Jamal. It went straight to voicemail.

He called Ryan. “Eggsy?” Ryan sounded baked.

“Bruv, you know where Jamal is?”

“Jamal?”

“Yeah,” Eggsy said, impatient. He heard the door opening and glanced up to see Harry coming through, an order form in his hand. Harry let the door close behind him and waited.

“Nah bruv, I don’t –” There was some muffled conversation Eggsy couldn’t catch. “Liam says he’s gone to the hospital with his nan.”

“Gone to the hospital?”

Ryan audibly took a hit off what Eggsy was a hundred per cent sure was a joint, and then said, “That’s what he said,” in that croaky voice you spoke with before you exhaled.

“Fuck,” Eggsy said, and hung up without saying goodbye. Ryan wouldn’t care. Ryan wouldn’t remember.

He met Harry’s eyes. “I’m really sorry,” he said, “Jamal ain’t fetched Daisy from nursery. Apparently he’s gone to the hospital with his nan and Ryan and Liam are both… fucked, and…”

“You must go and fetch her,” Harry said, stating it as a fact. “She comes first.”

Eggsy winced at him, very aware of how much his job had suffered for Daisy. He’d finally finished his last session with Junior this week and he’d hoped things would get quiet for a bit, make him seem like less of a shit employee, but it seemed the universe wasn’t up for that. “I’m really sorry,” he said again. “I’ll call around, if I can get someone to have her I’ll come back today or I’ll get someone to keep her late tomorrow and Friday…”

“You could just bring her back here,” Harry said, like that was a normal suggestion.

“Bring her back here?” Eggsy echoed, half-thinking he’d misheard.

Harry shrugged a shoulder. “Why not? If someone else can turn up to collect her then fine; if not it’ll only be for a few hours.”

“But she’s…” Eggsy wondered where to start. “She’s full on, you know. I’m not gonna get a lot of work done.”

Harry tilted his head briefly. “Well, you’ll get more done than you will not being here at all.”

“Right,” Eggsy said, nodding vaguely. He realised that he really needed to go; the nursery hated it when you were late, they sent texts and emails about it to everyone almost weekly it seemed, but, “Are you sure?”

Harry smiled. “Of course.”

And so that was how Eggsy found himself just under twenty minutes later pushing open the door to Kingsman Tailor’s with his right hand, and bumping the pushchair up the step with his left. He steadfastly ignored the immediate stares of the two customers in the shop, one of whom Harry was assisting.

“Eggsy,” Harry smiled, as though this wasn’t bizarre. “And Daisy,” he added, and actually _stepped away from the customer_ to come and stand in front of Daisy in her pushchair. Eggsy gaped at him as he leaned over slightly and smiled at her. “Welcome to Kingsman, little miss.”

Eggsy guessed his face must have looked well odd, because when Harry straightened and looked at him, he smirked just slightly before he said, “Why don’t you take her through to the back for now?”

Eggsy nodded and did just that, still ignoring the customers.

It was a fucking weird afternoon. Eggsy tried his best to concentrate on what he could, and Daisy was actually, bless her, being good as gold for once – it helped that her most recent tooth had finally broken through a week ago so she wasn’t in pain all the time at the moment and was consequently sleeping a lot better as well – but it was still hard to get over the overall oddness of her being there, in amongst the expensive fabrics and the multiple sewing machines and then... Harry.

Eggsy did have to admit, having Daisy there did a hell of a lot to break the strange atmosphere that had been between him and Harry this week. Okay, it had replaced it with something else strange, but at least this only seemed to be for Eggsy; Harry on the other hand appeared to be loving it.

He came through to the back when there weren’t customers, at least twice for no reason at all other than to smile at Daisy and distract Eggsy with charming conversation, and then at one point, when she’d got fed up of her pushchair and fed up of being on Eggsy’s lap as well – it was really difficult to hold a baby and sew at the same time without hurting her – Harry held his arms out and asked, “Shall I take her for a moment? Just let you get that hem done?”

“Er, sure,” Eggsy said, letting go of the one hand he had on the fabric to use both hands to pass his sister over, and then he took a second to shake them out before applying all his attention to the hem in front of him and none at all to the handsome man in the beautiful suit holding his baby sister on his hip and smiling at her.

All right, there was definitely some attention going that way.

The bell rang in the front, and Eggsy took just a second to stop, turning to take Daisy back, but before he could react Harry was going, out to the front with Daisy in his arms.

Eggsy stared after him stupidly.

His phone rang.

It was Jamal. “Hey-”

“Bruv, why’s everyone been blowing up my phone?” Jamal demanded. “What’s going on?”

“Is your nan all right?”

“My nan?” Jamal sounded confused. “Yeah, she’s fine. Just a review, innit.”

“What?”

The conversation went on like this for far longer than it needed to before they came to the joint realisation that Jamal thought he had told Eggsy he couldn’t have Daisy today because he needed to take his nan to a hospital appointment, and Eggsy thought he’d said no such fucking thing. Eventually, they ended on mutual terms of, “Wanker,” and “Dickhead,” before Jamal said, “See you Friday, yeah?” and Eggsy was back in the shop again, his sister’s pushchair beside him but her still not there.

He went through to the front, hesitating a little bit even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself, to find Harry explaining the various choices of fabric to an uncomfortable-looking man in his fifties who was clearly there only at his new wife’s insistence, if his own M&S basic clothing and the woman dressed looking like she was going to a 1950s-themed party draped over his arm were anything to go by. Harry was being his consummate professional self, even as Daisy did her level best to drag the glasses from his face, and only Harry’s frequent shifting of her position meant the best she could manage was getting the lenses probably filthy.

Eggsy came to hover at Harry’s elbow, and waited until Harry had finished his spiel about tweed. He expected Harry to hand him the baby, but instead Harry just said, “Ah, Eggsy. Perhaps my assistant could suggest some accoutrements that might compliment your style?” to the woman, so Eggsy led her over to the trays of cufflinks and then walked her through a variety of ties, knowing this was nonsense until the suit fabric was chosen anyway, and left Daisy babbling at Harry.

“Why did you want her picking out stuff?” he asked, when the couple had gone and Harry had handed Daisy back to him and immediately took out a handkerchief – an actual handkerchief – to clean his glasses. Daisy immediately started to fuss, so he put her down, walking behind her as she toddled a few steps forward, then made a wobbly turn to change direction. He kept an eye on the door the whole time, blocking suits and glass display cabinets with his legs every time she got near to something, which was a lot.

“I didn’t,” Harry said, “I just didn’t want her choosing the fabric.” Eggsy pulled a confused face at him. “Her taste was appalling. Didn’t you notice that hat with that dress?”

“Not so much, no,” Eggsy said, shaking his head, and lifted Daisy up in the air suddenly so she would shriek with delight instead of frustration just before she made contact with a pair of trousers.

“I suppose she’s getting quite bored,” Harry commented, smiling when Eggsy caught his eye, bringing Daisy to his hip again. “Needs something to play with… ah! The box pile.”

“I am just glad this assessment got done already,” Eggsy said two minutes later, watching his sister sitting inside a cardboard box in the back, partly covered in other smaller boxes, and gleefully throwing anything she could. None of them went very far. Harry stood next to him, still smiling.

“Has he told you the outcome?” Harry asked.

“Nah,” Eggsy said. “Said a few weeks, then he’ll get back in touch, give me a copy.” He deliberately did not let himself start to worry again about what it might say. “This would definitely make a line or two in it, though,” he said, gesturing at the cardboard prison and toys.

Harry looked at him and shrugged. “It shows adaptability,” he said. “And an early introduction to the world of work. It’s never too early to learn about style.”

Yep, Eggsy thought. It was a fucking weird afternoon.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m not actually a huge fan of Harry calling Daisy ‘little miss’ but… when I tried to change it, nothing else would fit. Apparently this version of Harry is sticking to it. *Shrugs* Seems death of the author comes with the birth of the character, never mind the birth of the reader.
> 
> Also: in this chapter I took what was already going to be one of the longest scenes, and then added a ton of other fluff to it before it went anywhere. I am not going to apologise and I don’t think you’ll want me to, if the reactions to Daisy in the shop are anything to go by, but I’m just saying it wasn’t planned and these characters are starting to get out of hand.

It had been just over a week since the conversation where Harry had admitted to having feelings for Eggsy – not that he’d been entirely honest about the depth of those feelings – and Eggsy had admitted to… something, though neither he nor Harry was quite sure what. Harry had, initially, felt it was best to let Eggsy try and sort his head out, knowing it would be too easy from the boy’s admission to push for something that Eggsy was later going to regret. He appreciated that Eggsy had been honest about being unsure where his feelings came from. He’d dated at least one man in his past who was using Harry’s certainty about himself to work through his own sexuality crisis, with the outcome being _this is fun, but I’m still going to call myself straight_ and he had no desire to repeat the experience.

That being said, as the days had passed and neither of them so much as alluded to the admissions, it was getting harder and harder to ignore. Even if Eggsy hadn’t reached any further conclusions, Harry felt he needed to know that. It wasn’t as if he would be determinedly searching for the next available gay man should Eggsy tell him he’d decided he wasn’t interested after all, but he hoped a conversation would at least reduce some of the tension between them, if not move things on in any sense.

Having decided to bring the matter up, Harry spent most of Saturday debating the timing of his proposal. He had no one but Hamish that he trusted to mull the matter over with, but he wasn’t in the mood for the inevitable ribbing that would come along with it. Eventually realising that it really didn’t matter whether they did this on a weekend or a weekday since they would still need to be back together in the shop on a Monday anyway, he sent the text.

_I think we need to talk. Would you agree to dinner?_

Harry disliked texts for any form of real communication, but for matters such as this, purposeful and swift, they were perfect. Nevertheless, as soon as he’d sent it he wished he’d called instead, as it would have avoided the wait for a response.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before his phone buzzed.

_Always, if you’re cooking_

Before he could respond, another text arrived.

_When tho? Not got a lot of favours left with Daisy, cute tho she is_

Harry smiled in acknowledgement.

_I could bring something to yours? Enough for the little miss too?_

_Wkd_ came the reply, and hot on its heels _Tmrw? Or when?_

Eggsy’s eagerness spurred Harry on, so in short order they agreed upon the Sunday early evening, and the decision made, Harry immediately retired to his sewing room, intent on finishing the garments he’d been planning to work on tomorrow.

The following day he stood on Eggsy’s doorstep, insulated bag of food in hand, still wondering whether he should have worn a suit or not. The arguments for and against tumbled over each other in his mind, until the door opened and Eggsy was smiling widely at him. 

A second or two later, he took in the fact that Daisy was smiling at him too.

“Come in,” Eggsy said, stepping back after they’d done their greetings and Daisy had leaned forward probably to try and bite the finger that Harry had stroked under her chin. “You look… different. Good, though.”

Harry glanced down at his off-white cashmere jumper and fitted black jeans, like he didn’t know exactly what he was wearing. “Thank you.” He took in Eggsy’s garish lilac polo shirt with yellow and white stripes around the collar and his slim-fit, but definitely not fitted, tracksuit trousers. “You too.”

Eggsy made a noise just short of a snort, rolling his eyes with a smile. “I was gonna change, but this one decided _she_ needed changing more urgently, so.”

“I mean it,” said Harry sincerely, because if it wasn’t the appropriate time to say it now, when would it be? He reached out a hand to touch Eggsy on the arm, just for a moment. “You look lovely.”

Eggsy seemed to struggle with how to respond to that, if the moment’s silence and his eyes skittering about before he said, “Uh, thanks,” were anything to go by.

They settled in the kitchen area, where Harry noted the sewing machine had been relegated to the floor. Eggsy buckled Daisy into a high chair set between the two kitchen chairs, all crowded round the small circular table, whilst Harry followed his instructions as to where to find cutlery and crockery, not that there were vast choices of where to look in the limited space. Eggsy got up to get them drinks, and soon enough Harry was dishing out spaghetti Bolognese onto two plates and into a small plastic bowl.

“I wasn’t sure what would be suitable for Daisy,” Harry explained, “at this stage, so I elected to go for something simple.” He paused for a second in thought. “She can eat onions, can’t she? They’re diced very small.”

“Er, yeah?” Eggsy said, obviously nonplussed by the question.

“Right,” said Harry, and then catching up with his own thoughts, “oh, yes. That’s dogs that can’t have onions.”

There was a second’s pause as Eggsy stared at him whilst Harry stared back, aghast at the realisation that he’d just admitted to confusing babies with dogs, before Eggsy broke it with sudden, genuine laughter.

“Dogs!” Eggsy echoed, his eyes crinkling beautifully, shoulders shaking, and Harry could do nothing but laugh along with him, his own embarrassment swept away.

“This is gonna get messy,” Eggsy warned him once he’d wiped the tears from his eyes, and stood to gather from a drawer another, bigger bib that almost seemed to envelop Daisy. “I mean, to the point that she’s definitely gonna need a bath but we might need one too.”

There was a pause, as they both clearly realised at the same time the unintended implications of that statement, and neither chose to take it forward. Harry just watched as Eggsy ducked his head and sat, pulling Daisy’s bowl towards him to cut the spaghetti up.

“Sorry, I didn’t think-” Harry started, but Eggsy cut him off, shaking his head.

“She’s gotta try everything, even if it does mean more washing for me.” He looked up then with a grin. “Just warning you, in case you’re particularly attached to that jumper.”

Harry sort of was, but it felt almost like a test, even if Eggsy wasn’t intending to give it, so he just shook his head and said, “I’m sure my dry cleaner will be able to manage.”

Eggsy gave a small shake of his own head with another eye roll and a smile, and Harry hoped he wasn’t mistaking it for fondness.

They made it through the meal without too much chaos. Harry’s jumper definitely would need a trip to the dry cleaner’s, perhaps with an extra tip, but it was worth it for the moment that Daisy grabbed the spoon from Eggsy’s hand and held it out towards Harry, saying, “Da!”

“Don’t worry, that’s her noise for everything,” Eggsy reassured him with a grin, as Harry had a half-moment of alarm about what the baby might be thinking. “She just wants you to feed her.”

Apprehensive and charmed in equal measures, Harry took the spoon, and managed to get at least a spoonful and a half vaguely into the baby’s face before she grabbed the spoon away from him again and proceeded to jab herself in the eye with it.

It was another forty five minutes before they got to get to the actual point of the evening. Once dinner was finished a bath for Daisy was immediately necessary, so Harry used the time to wash up, despite Eggsy’s protests. Thoughts swirled around in his mind about how the upcoming conversation might go, what the outcome might be, and yet he noted whilst he ought to have been feeling perhaps agitated to get started, he wasn’t. He was anticipatory, certainly, but there was no edge to it. He was enjoying the lead up, the cosy sort of domesticity of sharing the meal with the baby and putting his and Eggsy’s needs aside for hers, for a while at least.

Harry shook his head at himself, setting the last fork to dry. It seemed he’d become a touch sentimental when he wasn’t looking.

“She’ll drop off in a bit,” Eggsy told Harry as he came into the living area where Harry was now sitting, waiting for him. He had a clean, pyjama-ed baby in his arms, whom he deposited onto a blanket he spread out on the floor, grabbing a couple of toys from a box behind the armchair and putting them in front of Daisy, who immediately crawled forward to reach them. “She’s tired, but if I put her down now she’ll fight it. Easier to let her just drop off here then move her.” He shrugged a shoulder, settling with Harry on the sofa, though the middle cushion was between them. Harry caught a sense of the defensiveness he rarely saw these days. “You’re not meant to, o’ course. Bad habits and that. But,” he shrugged again, “she gets to sleep without screaming first, I figure we can work on other habits when she’s had a good rest, yeah?”

“Absolutely,” Harry agreed, not really having any idea about whether that was good child-rearing practice or not, but noting Eggsy relaxing minutely at his response.

They both watched Daisy silently for a short while as she picked up soft blocks and alternated between stacking, throwing and chewing them. Then the silence was broken by Eggsy saying, voice at a very even volume, “You wanted to talk, yeah?”

Harry nodded, still looking at the baby, then turned to regard Eggsy. “Yes,” he said. Eggsy watched him expectantly as he gathered his thoughts. “I thought we should talk about… our feelings.”

Eggsy nodded, showing that he knew what Harry meant, but his gaze moved to the sofa cushions. He seemed content to let Harry lead.

“What do you want?” Harry asked, taking the bull by the horns. When Eggsy glanced up at him, a little frown in place, he continued. “I know you might not yet be able to answer that. I simply wanted to ask the question, just in case there was an answer. And if that answer is… nothing, that’s fine.” He smiled gently. “I’m a grown man, I can take it.”

Eggsy smiled back at him, but took another couple of seconds to answer. “When you hired me…” he started, which wasn’t quite what Harry was expecting, but he wasn’t going to stop the man, “did you do it because you thought I was fit?”

Harry might have blushed, if he were accustomed to it. Instead he gave a wry twist of his lips and admitted, “If I’m honest… I did like the look of you. But I never thought anything would come of it. You must understand; I had no designs on you, no sense that you might… reciprocate anything.” He stared at Eggsy, watching as the younger man took this in. “I wouldn’t have dared hope. It was just me being…” he searched for the right word that wouldn’t seem like he was demeaning Eggsy, or reducing his feelings as they were now. He couldn’t find it. “Just me wanting to have something nice to look at, I suppose,” he ended, with a huff of self-deprecating laughter. “But I did know that you could be taught,” he added, suddenly realising how that might sound. “If I didn’t think you’d be able to do the job, in the end, I wouldn’t have hired you just for that.”

“Thought I showed some promise, yeah?” Eggsy said, with a twist to his own smile and a raised eyebrow, and Harry felt relieved he wasn’t misunderstanding Harry’s intentions.

Still, he got the sense that Eggsy still needed… “Definitely,” he said. “You’ve all the makings of a very fine tailor.”

“’Cept me clothes,” Eggsy retorted, pulling at his tracksuit trousers, and they both smiled, but Harry got the sense the compliment had landed where Eggsy needed it.

He cleared his throat, aware the conversation was veering into another territory, and this wasn’t what they needed to talk about. Before he could speak, however, Eggsy asked, “What do _you_ want?”

Harry felt frustration at the deflection. He’d asked Eggsy not because he himself was unsure, or worried about making himself vulnerable, but because he needed to be sure that he wasn’t the one leading this, unintentionally – or otherwise – talking Eggsy into things he didn’t really want. He was about to say that, opening his mouth, when he realised that Eggsy was asking him because he did feel vulnerable - _was_ vulnerable, this being even his first idea of a same-sex relationship – and to some extent he wanted, perhaps even needed Harry to guide him.

He was young, and that was perhaps a problem in some regards. But it didn’t need to be insurmountable.

“I would like to spend more time with you,” Harry answered honestly. “If that means… dating, I suppose,” he held back from using _courting_ , knowing it would be a distraction, “or not dating, just enjoying one another’s company as we are, then that’s fine.” He gauged Eggsy’s reaction, and the man seemed to be waiting for more. “If that means… a night of passion, then I would not be averse.”

He caught the minute changes in Eggsy’s expression: the widening of his eyes, his bottom lip being drawn between his teeth, his shoulders being set slightly back. He looked a combination of turned on and terrified. Harry firmly set aside the amusement he felt, knowing it would be singularly unhelpful to this conversation.

“Does that scare you?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Eggsy replied quickly, as though he couldn’t stop from answering if he wanted to. His eyes darted away, and Harry followed them as they alit upon Daisy before returning to him. “Actually,” Eggsy said, “yeah. It does. But I want it anyway.”

Harry held back the praise he wanted to give Eggsy for being so honest with both of them. He smiled, anyway, and tried not to make it look predatory.

Eggsy opened his mouth as if to speak, paused, closed it again. Harry waited. “I do find you really attractive,” Eggsy said, and Harry tamped down his grin. “Like, I know that now. But… I don’t know whether I want to… have sex.” His eyes darted to Harry’s, away, then back again. “You know? It’s a big difference, from…” he waved his hand vaguely.

“I do have certain different constituent parts from your previous partners,” Harry agreed, and let himself smile as Eggsy grinned openly and shook his head in response. “Have you thought about it?” Harry asked, and watched with sudden and growing desire as a blush appeared at Eggsy’s neck and crept its way up his face, even as the younger man ducked his head.

“Yeah,” Eggsy managed to get out, not looking at Harry.

Harry couldn’t help but smirk as he replied, “That’s usually quite a good indicator.”

He let the moment settle, waiting for Eggsy to get himself under control. It wasn’t until Eggsy was able to make eye contact with him again that he said, “Well, at my age… sex is a bonus.” He wasn’t being entirely truthful – he didn’t quite feel he was ready for a life of celibacy yet – but he thought letting Eggsy know it wasn’t the be all and end all of a relationship would help take some of the pressure off.

“You ain’t that old!” Eggsy protested, and Harry laughed, because he absolutely was, but it was still delightful to hear Eggsy say otherwise.

There was another lull in the conversation. Harry followed Eggsy’s gaze again, and both of theirs settled on Daisy in quiet contentment, noting how the baby had at some point in the last minute or two fallen asleep, her fingers clutching a soft cube. Harry wondered if Eggsy would take the opportunity to put her to bed, but he didn’t, apparently more interested in finishing the conversation.

“What if we just…” Eggsy started, then stopped. Harry waited. “Tried spending more time together?” he tried, sounding uncertain.

“That sounds lovely,” Harry said, smiling at him. It did, truthfully. Whatever that meant to Eggsy, whether it was romantic or-

His thoughts were interrupted by Eggsy scooting closer to him on the sofa, and suddenly the air was thicker. “Can I-?” Eggsy asked, his gaze flickering down to Harry’s lips. His left arm was braced along the back of the sofa. Harry felt the desire return full-force. He nodded once, an agreement to – anything, really.

Eggsy waited a heartbeat before leaning in, his eyes closing, and Harry kept his own open just long enough to see that before their lips touched.

It wasn’t fireworks and urgency. This wasn’t a we’ve-been-holding-back-so-long-we-can’t-help-it kind of kiss. It was a slow build, moving from sweet and chaste to something deeper, more primal, as Eggsy’s lips parted just slightly, Harry drew a sharp breath in through his nose and then Eggsy’s tongue licked across his bottom lip, just a flicker at first, before returning, more demanding.

Harry was keeping his hands to himself, letting Eggsy set the pace, but Eggsy brought his right hand up to cradle Harry’s cheek, and the softness of it mixed with the compact strength distracted Harry enough that he almost missed when Eggsy used his tongue to coax Harry’s mouth into opening. He didn’t actually miss it, of course. It was pretty hard to miss that.

Harry was breathing heavier now, but Eggsy pulled back at that, his own chest heaving a little. They smiled at one another, Harry imagining he looked every bit as punch-drunk stupid as Eggsy did.

“That was good,” Eggsy said, surprising a laugh out of Harry, and then they grinned stupidly at one another a bit more. Eggsy sat back then, deliberately putting space between them, and Harry respected it even as he wanted to pull the man back towards him. “Okay,” said Eggsy. I think that was… we should…”

He seemed to be struggling, so Harry ventured, “Plan some more time to spend together?” and felt gratified when Eggsy grinned at him.

They did just that, Harry putting the date in his phone’s calendar and Eggsy shaking his head at him, and then after Harry had collected his bag and food containers they went to the door.

Harry stepped outside before turning back to look at Eggsy, not sure what Eggsy might want anyone to know, but he needn’t have worried. Eggsy leant forward to him, placing his hands on Harry’s upper arms as he gave him a slow but gentle kiss. He pulled back, smiling. “See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Harry echoed, and it took him a good three steps away from the door before he had any idea what that referred to.

* * * * *

Eggsy felt like he could barely keep up with his own mood. He had spent the last few days in alternate states of freaking out, feeling drunk on adoration and quite uncomfortably horny. It didn’t even seem to take anything in particular to change things; one moment he’d be in the shop, smiling stupidly at Harry when the other man came through from the back like the customer Eggsy was serving had just disappeared, while the next moment Harry would be smiling back at him and his pulse would ratchet up twenty per cent and he’d be darting looks around like he was expecting Dean to appear and kick his head in at any moment.

It was bloody exhausting, and Eggsy was starting to worry about how much Harry was worrying about him too, giving him these little side-eye glances throughout the day and then quietly, whenever they were alone, taking his hand ever-so-gently and murmuring, “Are you all right?” all up in his space.

Honestly, even him just doing that was enough to calm Eggsy down a whole lot whenever he hadn’t been all right, but he didn’t want Harry thinking he was some kind of nutjob that was bipolar or something. Not that that would be his fault if he was, but Eggsy’s mum had a friend who was bipolar and she was fucking exhausting to be around. He knew already Harry was kind of taking a lot on with this, letting Eggsy make the decisions, and it wasn’t fair for him to be properly worrying about his mental health on top of it.

He’d kept whatever this was to himself so far, partly because he didn’t have the words for it but partly because it was so new and precious, he kind of didn’t want to share it yet. Still, it got to the point that he had to tell someone if only to get his head on straight, so he asked Roxy round on Thursday night.

Roxy’s smile when he got her all caught up was almost unbearable.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, before she even said anything. “You was right. You know me better than I know myself. I’m a dick. Blah, blah, blah.”

Roxy, the prick, just grinned at him.

“Look, I told you ‘cause I need some advice, innit,” he said, and she immediately got serious again, drawing her legs up onto the sofa and getting comfortable. He told her about how the last few days had been.

“Well,” she said consideringly when he’d finished, “it’s not really surprising. It is new to you, after all.”

Eggsy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but… it’s not like I’m twelve. And I really like him, Rox.” He ducked his head down, not wanting to see her reaction to him being that honest. “It shouldn’t make me freak out so much.”

“You’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself to react a certain way,” replied Roxy, annoyingly logical. “And it has only been…what, a few weeks since you accepted you’re not entirely straight?” Eggsy tipped his head in acknowledgement. “That’s a pretty big identity shift.”

“Mm,” Eggsy said, not sure if that was it. It felt like it probably was, but why would it hit him sometimes and then other times not bother him at all?

“So,” said Roxy, and her sly tone made Eggsy take notice, “how is he?”

“Roxy!” Eggsy returned, elbowing her in the arm, and she laughed and shoved him back.

“Go on, I don’t mean details!” she said, as Eggsy looked away and willed himself not to blush because he was twenty-three, damn it, not twelve. “Just, you know. Do you enjoy it?”

Eggsy couldn’t bear to give her any level of detail about how far it hadn’t gone yet, so all he did was mumble, “He’s gorgeous, what do you think?” and listened to her laugh delightedly for a few moments before he could meet her eyes. Truth was, he was fairly sure the way he’d been going that by the time they got around to doing anything, he was going to blow his load in seconds anyway. The more he thought about Harry, especially the more he let himself imagine Harry in sexual situations while he touched himself, the more sexy Harry became. He’d smiled at him the other day in the shop, the exact same way he’d done in one of Eggsy’s fantasies the night before, and Eggsy had just had to turn away entirely, escaping out the back as soon as he could to calm down. It was ridiculous.

“I bet he’s brilliant in bed,” Roxy said, clearly not finished with that train of thought yet. “The way you talk about him, he sounds really sophisticated. When do I get to meet him?”

“Never, Rox,” Eggsy groaned, not even able to put the two together in his mind at the moment, let alone in real life, and she just laughed at him again.

“Really, though,” she said, leaning forward to take a sip of beer, “it must be nice being with someone older for a change. None of that nonsense about whose house you can go back to, whether you’ve got enough to go out twice in one week.”

He gave her a sympathetic look. “Tom again?”

She rolled her eyes in acknowledgement. Eggsy shook his head, and stayed wisely silent. It never ended well when he told her his opinions of her boyfriends, even when they were her opinions too.

“How old exactly is he, anyway?” Roxy asked, and Eggsy’s heartbeat immediately accelerated.

“Um,” he said, “like. Fifty-two?”

“Fifty-two?” Roxy squawked back at him. He scowled at her. “I thought he was like, in his forties at the oldest.”

“Why?” Eggsy demanded. “I never said that.”

“No,” she shook her head. “No, I suppose… sorry.” She did sound it, but Eggsy wasn’t forgiving her that quickly. “I didn’t mean to… freak out.”

Eggsy huffed. “Yeah, well. You’re not the only one,” he said, theoretically referring to anyone else who found out about them, but really sort of referring to himself, too.

They both whipped their heads toward the coffee table at a noise from the baby monitor, but after a few whimpers it grew quiet again, so Eggsy guessed Daisy was just dreaming.

“He’s… a silver fox then, yeah?” Roxy said with a little grin, and Eggsy guessed she was trying to lighten the mood.

He let her, since her reaction was about what he expected from most people anyway. And since they’d gone there… He squared his shoulders. “Do you think I got daddy issues?”

Roxy stared at him, her mouth dropping open a bit. He looked back, not willing to flinch. “Because of the age gap?” he added, unnecessarily.

Roxy spoke slowly, when she did. “Do you… want him to be your daddy?”

“Fuck no,” Eggsy said, screwing up his face. “My dad… my dad was awesome, when he was alive. Then I had one shit stepdad and then an even worse one, and…” he shook his head, “I’ve had enough of dads now, thanks.”

“Well,” said Roxy, shrugging her shoulders, “there you go, then. Just let Harry be your partner.”

Eggsy nodded slowly, then more firmly as the thought solidified. Yeah. Just because Harry was old enough to be Eggsy’s dad, did _not_ mean he was. No matter what other people might think when they saw them.

* * * * *

It had been a lovely evening up until the point that the doorbell rang. Harry had come back to Eggsy’s straight after work, surprised and delighted when the man asked him, and they’d ordered pizza. Eggsy had giggled multiple times at the apparently hilarious sight of a man in a bespoke suit eating Dominoes, and the baby had grabbed a handful of stringy cheese before either of them could notice and stop her. Her delighted noise made them both smile, even as Eggsy casually shunted the pizza box out of her reach.

They settled onto the sofa after dinner, Eggsy fitting just nicely under Harry’s arm, and Daisy toddling back and forth in front of them, bringing them bits and piece of toys and then taking them back to wherever she thought they needed to be. Throughout the evening she’d posted most of the parts from a shape sorter into the tiny swing-bin across the room, but as Eggsy hadn’t said anything Harry assumed this was fine, even if it seemed a bit unhygienic.

Daisy had nodded off on their laps in the end, having sat for a little while on Eggsy’s before sliding sideways bit by bit until she was lying across them both, and Harry didn’t know if this was a mid-life crisis or just a natural reaction to a baby but the more time he spent with her, the more precious he found her. He actively looked to greet her now when he came to Eggsy’s, instead of seeing her as an afterthought to Eggsy. He’d never given much serious thought to having children, apart from a brief period when he was dating Michael, but in that case it was Michael’s single-minded desire to get married and have children and basically recreate a heterosexual existence as closely as possible that had driven them apart.

Still, despite the genuine enjoyment he got from being in Daisy’s presence, he couldn’t deny enjoying it more when Eggsy put her to bed and he had the young man to himself.

They’d only been kissing for a minute or two when the bell rang. Both pulled back, looking toward the door.

Eggsy frowned as he got up. “’S a bit late,” he said, not that it really was, but evidently he wasn’t expecting guests. He squinted through the peephole, then groaned.

Before Harry could ask him what – or rather, who – the matter was, Eggsy opened the door.

“Eggsy,” a blonde woman, much older than Eggsy, stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Harry watched, a little startled, as Eggsy put his arms around her in return, but his face remained stony. “I’ve left him,” the woman gasped into Eggsy’s shoulder.

“Yeah?” Eggsy asked, sounding tired, and the woman pulled back and nodded.

“I made sure he di’n’t follow me,” she said, tears tracking down her face even though she seemed to have stopped crying. “He said he…” she took a breath, “said he di’n’t care, anyway.”

“Come on in, mum,” Eggsy said, sounding resigned, and the puzzle pieces clicked into place as Eggsy leaned out to pick up a bag his mum had put down outside the door.

“Mum,” Eggsy said, just as the woman – Michelle, Harry recalled – caught sight of Harry on the sofa. Harry rose. “This is Harry. Harry, this is my mum, Michelle.”

“Oh,” said Michelle, with a little frown, and then she turned back to Eggsy just as Harry began to offer his hand in greeting. “Have you got space for me?”

“Course, mum,” Eggsy said, putting her bag down at the end of the sofa.

Michelle sniffled. “Thanks, love.” She went into the kitchen area and picked up the kettle, beginning to fill it like she belonged there.

Eggsy’s eyes met Harry’s for the first time since he’d opened the door. Harry had no idea how he was meant to react to this, how or indeed who Eggsy wanted him to be. He hadn’t said, “Mum, this is my friend, Harry,” or, “Mum, this is my boyfriend, Harry,” or even, “Mum, this is my boss, Harry,” and Harry knew their status at the moment was a little vague, but any of those would have given him some guidance as to how to respond to any comments the woman might make to him.

“She’ll prob’ly stay the night,” Eggsy said to him, low under the noise of the kettle starting to boil. Harry took in the tension in his body, but it didn’t seem to extend to his face, the way it did sometimes out of nowhere, like he’d suddenly realised what he and Harry were doing and it had scared him.

“I’m just gonna pop to the loo, love,” Michelle said suddenly. “Daisy asleep already?”

“Yeah, mum,” Eggsy answered her without looking in her direction, and didn’t track her as she made her way to the bathroom.

Eggsy sighed.

“I know this is a foolish question,” Harry said, reaching out to take Eggsy’s hand, “but are you all right?”

Eggsy smiled even as he shook his head. “Nah, Harry,” he answered honestly. “This just… tires me out, you know? I wish I could believe she was really gonna stay away from him this time, but…” He shrugged a shoulder.

“She’s done this before?” Harry clarified. Eggsy nodded.

“Gosh,” Harry replied, blandly, having nothing of any import to say on the matter.

Eggsy smiled up at him, a little rueful. “Sorry,” he said, “but… you’d better go. She’s gonna want to… talk and stuff. Maybe.” He sighed again. “Sometimes she does, sometimes she gets quiet instead but she still don’t want me to leave her.”

“That’s understandable,” Harry nodded, even though it wasn’t entirely, at least not to him.

They said their goodbyes at the door, Harry mindful that Michelle could be exiting the bathroom any moment now and he still didn’t know what she knew, if anything, about him. Regardless, Eggsy gave him a lingering kiss, pushing his body firmly into Harry’s, before pulling back and sighing, “Night, then,” before closing the door.

It wasn’t quite the evening he’d envisaged.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter could probably stand to be a bit less repeatedly angsty (don’t worry, there’s fluff too, you’ll see what I mean) but that’s real life, innit? You worry, you think you’ve sorted something out, you worry some more. Sorry not sorry.
> 
> By the way, if you know London and the journey/destination sounds impossible… bear with me, it’s an AU London, right?

Eggsy spent the ten minutes after the front door closed behind his mum slamming around his flat, throwing toys a bit too hard into their containers, barely stopping himself from breaking the plates as he washed up viciously and not very well, then thudding down onto the sofa before he caught Daisy’s eye and immediately felt like shit, the anger neatly sliding across to make way for guilt.

“Sorry, Daise,” he said softly, reaching out for her as she sat on the floor, a set of plastic keys forgotten in her hand. He brought her onto his lap, taking a deep breath when she – for once – didn’t resist and just relaxed against his chest. “’m just bein’ a prick.” He kissed the side of her head. “Don’t learn that word.”

Daisy bore the hug for a full minute before she started wriggling, eager to get down, and he sighed as he lowered her back to the ground, where she immediately toddled off towards her farm, obviously planning to unceremoniously chuck all the animals out again.

Eggsy had his phone out and calling Harry before he realised he was doing it, and it was only halfway through the words, “What you doing now?” that he registered he sounded a bit too demanding, that it wasn’t actually Harry’s responsibility to help him deal with this, and also that Harry absolutely would without question, which was why he’d called him.

With those thoughts one after the other, he missed what Harry said in reply. “What?”

“Just doing some weeding.” Eggsy’s mind produced a visual of Harry on his knees, trousers not bespoke but still proper suit trousers, shirt sleeves rolled up, maybe a sheen of sweat on his forehead. It was quite the thought. “Are you all right?”

“No,” Eggsy said, lacking the motivation to sugarcoat it. “Can I come round?”

Forty minutes later – bloody Sunday service – he and Daisy were inside Harry’s kitchen, Daisy delighting in all the new things to poke and pull at while Eggsy leaned against the counter, tired, not taking his eyes off her.

Harry, having put the kettle on, stepped into Eggsy’s space and Eggsy closed his eyes for a moment, breathed him in, rested his forehead against Harry’s shoulder before opening his eyes to check on his little sister. She’d found a vegetable rack and was examining some potatoes. He let his eyes close again.

Harry kissed him on the cheek, which was kind of ridiculously sweet to the point that it made Eggsy blush, just a little bit, and then harder when Harry noticed and gave him a pleased sort of smile, like Eggsy blushing was something he liked instead of just really embarrassing in itself. Eggsy huffed a sigh at himself and turned his face away, but Harry brought his hand up to Eggsy’s face and turned it back to him gently, and then they were kissing properly and that was really just perfect.

Harry’s tongue had just begun to really make itself at home inside Eggsy’s mouth when both of them jumped just a little at a shriek from behind, and then the kettle clicked off just after and the moment was definitely broken. Still, despite the frustration, Eggsy couldn’t help admit he felt a bit better.

“Do you want to tell me?” Harry asked as he passed Eggsy a mug moments later, both of them taking seats at the table, and Eggsy took a moment to wonder that Harry even had mugs rather than just china teacups. It had a nice weight to it though, slate grey, wasn’t no Sports Direct or free with Nescafe mug (Eggsy had two of those, from Brandon’s mum; he wasn’t posh enough to drink Nescafe).

The musing about the mugs only lasted so long. “She’s gone back to him,” Eggsy said dully to the surface of his tea before taking a sip.

“Your mum?” Harry asked, and Eggsy snorted a laugh for a second, because even though it didn’t sound like Harry making a joke it made him think of it.

“Yeah,” he answered, the humour gone quickly. Daisy babbled something, next to his knee, and he stroked her hair for a moment before she turned and lurched the other way. He met Harry’s eyes. “Not like I’m surprised, but…” He felt a surge of the anger from earlier again, and gripped his mug tight as he tried to let it wash over him rather than through him. “Managed two whole days before she bought his, ‘Sorry luv, swear I won’t do it again’.” Eggsy scowled. “Wish I could fucking end him.”

He wouldn’t have been surprised if Harry had said nothing, this kind of thing obviously being outside his life experience, but Harry said, calm, “If you did that, you couldn’t raise Daisy from prison.”

Eggsy smiled at that. Then the smile dropped as he realised, “Wouldn’t need to, ‘cause then my mum could.”

Harry acknowledged that with a tip of his head.

“My life is so fucked up,” Eggsy said, dropping his head onto his arms on the table, but after a few seconds of silence he raised it suddenly again, to see Harry with ever-so-slightly raised eyebrows. “Fuck,” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean… not completely, you know.”

Eggsy was not a romantic poet by any stretch of the imagination.

Lucky for him, Harry didn’t seem to mind. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, taking Eggsy’s hand, and Eggsy smiled back at him as he tightened his grip in response. From the outside it must have looked stupid, the both of them sat there holding hands at the kitchen table, but it did feel good from the inside.

Still… “Seriously though,” Eggsy said, the warm feeling evaporating, “aside from... the good bits,” he was careful about wording that, knowing what he was trying to say next, “my life is pretty messed up right now.” He pulled his hand gently out of Harry’s grasp and didn’t look at him, choosing instead to search the cavernous kitchen for his sister, who he found crouched down investigating a cat flap. The thought _But Harry doesn’t have a cat. Does he?_ ran through his mind, but he let it go, since it really wasn’t the most important thing right now. 

What he was about to say was stupid, Eggsy knew, given that he’d come here specifically to be with Harry, because he just wanted to. Despite that, once the thoughts were in his head he couldn’t keep them to himself. “I really don’t know if this is the right time to… start something.” He got the courage for a second, then, to glance at Harry. “With you. Like, I want to, but even that’s scary as fuck, and…” He sighed, struggling to find the words.

As usual, Harry was a lot more put together than he was. “Because it’s a new relationship? Or because I’m… older than you? Male? Your boss?”

Eggsy was actually grinning at that point, because it just sounded absurd when he listed it all out like that. “Yeah, all of the above,” he said, and Harry kind of smiled and shook his head at him at the same time like he thought Eggsy was hopeless but charming.

“Well,” said Harry, pausing then to take a drink, although Eggsy suspected it was more for effect than hydration, “there are already so many obstacles. What’s one more?”

He sounded flippant, but Eggsy got the sense it was a bit forced, like he was trying to be casual about it for Eggsy’s sake but he really cared about the outcome, and of course he did. Eggsy did, too.

“I won’t push you,” Harry said before Eggsy could reply, “but I really don’t think the situation with your mother and sister is the thing that should stop anything happening between us. That is simply… a challenging life circumstance.”

Eggsy raised an eyebrow. “That’s one way of puttin’ it.” He shook his head, staving off any reply Harry might make. “It’s just… a lot, yeah?”

Harry didn’t say anything, and Eggsy realised all of a sudden he was being absolutely truthful when he said he wouldn’t push. If Eggsy told him he wanted to walk away from this right now, Harry would let him, wouldn’t even make him feel bad about it.

It was that that decided him. “But I want it,” he said, determined. “This bit. You.”

Harry smiled at him, the motion stretching slowly across his face until it was just shy of a grin. “I would be perfectly amenable to that,” he said, and Eggsy rolled his eyes, leaning in for a kiss anyway because it was charming just as much as it was ridiculous. Before their lips even met, though, they were interrupted by a dull thud and a loud wail, and that moment was really just a microcosm of Eggsy’s entire life right now, wasn’t it?

Still, as he held his sniffling sister to his chest and Harry reached out towards them and put a hand on her back, saying, “Poor darling,” that was part of the microcosm too, and Eggsy could definitely live with that.

* * * * *

“We should make the most of this unseasonably warm weather,” Harry suggested, once he and Eggsy had finished their rather enthusiastic greeting. If it hadn’t been just after one in the afternoon, and there hadn’t been a toddler present who was just at this moment grabbing Harry’s trousers and babbling to him, things might have progressed a little further.

“What d’you mean?” Eggsy asked, as Harry crouched down and smiled at Daisy, who smiled widely back and made more unintelligible noises before using him for stability to turn around and totter away.

Harry got to his feet again, slower up than on the way down. “We could go for a walk. Take Daisy to the park, or something. Feed the ducks? Although bread isn’t meant to be good for them, but I suppose it’s better than starvation.”

Eggsy gave him a weird look. “How’d you get from ‘look at the lovely weather’ to ‘starving ducks’ that quick?”

Harry laughed, and caught Eggsy around the waist to pull him to him. Eggsy came easily, smiling. “I don’t know. What do you think, though?”

“’Bout starving ducks?”

Harry rolled his eyes.

Eggsy smiled at him again, cheeky this time, then it dropped. “Um, yeah. S’pose so.”

Harry caught the hesitation. “You don’t want to?”

“Nah,” Eggsy denied, almost visibly trying to relax. “Nah, sounds nice. Daise likes the swings, don’t you, flower?”

“Da!” Daisy agreed (or disagreed; Harry wasn’t sure) so a short fifteen minutes later when Eggsy had managed to pack half his flat into, onto or under the pushchair, they were off to the park.

“Think we should go to that one near the shop,” Eggsy said as they stood in the lift. Harry wrinkled his nose at the pervasive smell of urine; he normally took the stairs, which still had their own scent but it was less obvious than in a small metal box. “Bit of a change of scenery for this one.”

“That’s a bit far, isn’t it?” Harry replied, surprised. Eggsy just shrugged at him. “I mean, I’m not saying I mind, we can do.” He smiled. “I’ve no other plans today.”

Eggsy grinned at him then. “Really?”

“Really,” Harry confirmed.

They stepped out of the lift at the bottom, Harry first then Eggsy with the pushchair, and Harry deliberately ignored the blatant up and down look he got from a young man waiting to use the lift, as if he was sizing Harry up and wondering what he was doing there.

“We’re taking the tube then?” Harry asked Eggsy with a sunny smile, answering the young man’s question for him.

“Mm,” was the only reply he got, as Eggsy briskly pushed the buggy towards the exit to the flats, enough that Harry had to up his pace to catch up with him. He frowned, unsure what was wrong. Perhaps Eggsy had a problem with the other young man.

“Are you all right?” he asked once they were out of the building and heading down the road, now at a more reasonable pace.

“What?” Eggsy asked, too quickly. He gave Harry a confused-looking smile. “Yeah, ‘course.”

Harry wasn’t buying it, but obviously Eggsy wasn’t prepared to share whatever it was that was on his mind, so he let the matter drop. Eggsy had already shared an inordinate amount of things with him over the few short months they’d known one another; he could keep some of his secrets.

Eggsy seemed to relax on the walk to the tube station, bringing up a documentary he’d watched the night before on Bill Clinton’s time in the White House, and they enjoyed a conversation sharing their own thoughts. Harry hadn’t seen the documentary, but he remembered the key events well enough, whilst Eggsy admitted to not really knowing much about the man other than that he had been a President before seeing the documentary. It was silly, but Harry took pleasure in the knowledge that Eggsy wanted to expand his mind, wouldn’t dismiss things out of hand as being irrelevant to him in the here and now. It was one of the things that attracted him to the man.

The conversation broke as they got onto the tube, given the difficulty of maintaining it in the crowded space. Harry had never really paid much attention to how parents with small children managed on public transport, but he found himself hanging onto the partly folded pushchair (which wouldn’t fold all the way due to the amount of items still inside it) whilst Eggsy balanced half a carriage away, one hand on a strap and the other arm holding Daisy, a changing bag over his shoulder.

“Bit easier with you havin’ that,” Eggsy told him when the carriage emptied enough for them to stand next to one another.

“How do you manage during the week?” Harry wondered.

Eggsy frowned a little in thought. “Dunno. Got less stuff, I suppose. Most of what she needs stays at the nursery, so that folds easier. Can usually get a seat, anyway.”

“He is lucky he has you to help today,” an older woman wearing a headscarf sat near them said, in a heavy accent that might have been Eastern European or Asian, Harry wasn’t sure. She addressed this to Harry but smiled at both of them, and Harry smiled back. He looked to Eggsy then, who had turned his head to the woman to acknowledge her, but quickly looked away, and didn’t say anything more for the rest of the tube journey.

Harry worried over Eggsy’s behaviour on the walk to the park, not far from the shop. Eggsy wasn’t silent now, but he wasn’t his usual self. Still, Harry left it alone, and would have left it longer if it weren’t for the fact that Eggsy’s problem made itself known entirely without his involvement.

It was, as Harry had said, an unseasonably warm day for the start of October. Many others had clearly had similar thoughts to Harry and decided to take advantage of it, so the play area was relatively crowded.

Eggsy eyed it as they came along the path. “Maybe go round the lake, see what it’s like later?” Harry agreed, and they continued past.

Daisy began making unhappy noises a few minutes into their stroll, leaning over the side of the pushchair alarmingly, so Eggsy decided to let her out to walk. “You mind pushin’ this?” he asked as he stooped a little to hold Daisy’s hand, like he wasn’t really sure of the answer.

“Of course,” Harry told him, moving to take the handles of the pushchair, and was rewarded by a warm smile before Eggsy was tugged along by Daisy, lurching to investigate what turned out to be a stick.

Progress was quite a bit slower after that, not that it mattered. After a little while they came across a natural slope into the lake, where a few people were standing and throwing bread to the ducks. Daisy made a beeline for the water’s edge, and after watching her and Eggsy for a few moments Harry realised they were probably going to be a while and he was sort of in the way, stood in the middle of the path, so he took advantage of an empty bench opposite the shoreline and took a seat.

He laughed quietly as Daisy picked up a piece of bread dropped by another child, and Eggsy hurriedly said, “No, Daise!” as she started to raise it to her mouth. “For the duckies, see?” He gestured to the lake. Daisy looked at him, and there was a tense moment before she decided perhaps he was right and attempted to throw the bread into the lake like the other children were. It dropped a foot away from her, still on the shore. “Good girl,” Eggsy told her, and steered her a little further away as a couple of other parents laughed indulgently.

Daisy busied herself then with picking up several stones in succession, carefully considering each one before dropping it again. Harry watched, smiling, as Eggsy crouched beside her and murmured a little running commentary. Daisy picked up a stone that was almost as big as she could manage, one-handed, and then suddenly turned and presented it to a woman stood a couple of feet away.

“Oh, thank you!” the woman said, as though Daisy was offering her a prized possession rather than a slightly damp stone. “That’s lovely, is it yours?”

She didn’t take the stone, and Daisy seemed to grow tired of waiting for it to be taken, as she dropped her arm and then focused on Harry, taking her little wobbly steps towards him across the path. Harry smiled as he noticed Eggsy standing and scanning the path, since Daisy was taking absolutely no notice of whose way she might be walking into.

“That’s it,” said the woman Daisy had just approached, with a friendly tone, “go and give it to granddad,” and Harry imagined his face must have done a very funny thing then.

It still wasn’t a patch on what Eggsy’s face did. Daisy reached Harry, holding out the stone much as she had done to the woman, and he took it without looking at her, murmuring, “Thank you, Daisy.” His eyes were glued to Eggsy, who had reached them in three steps and was already coming around the back of the pushchair to kick the brake off. “Let’s go,” Eggsy said, low and not meeting Harry’s eyes, and he then stooped to pick up Daisy, who protested at the sudden change in plans, but Eggsy ignored it entirely.

His face was grim as they walked away from the ducks, and Harry walked silently beside him, not trying to hide his own anxious glances towards Eggsy’s face every few steps.

Eventually, when they’d been walking for a minute and Daisy was still protesting with little wails, although fewer now, Harry reached out and put a hand on Eggsy’s upper arm. Eggsy stopped short, blinking at Harry as though he’d just realised Harry was still there.

“Eggsy,” Harry started, then realised he didn’t know what he was going to say. “Will you talk to me?” he eventually found.

Eggsy looked away from him, at the ground, at the trees behind Harry, then eventually met his eyes again. “Yeah, all right,” Eggsy said, but nothing further.

Harry moved over a little to the side of the path. It was at least quieter here, and the denser trees blocked out much of the sound from the rest of the park. Eggsy followed him, pulling the buggy behind him. Daisy had quieted now, and was chewing on her fist. Eggsy bent to put her into the pushchair, which she didn’t protest.

“What that woman said bothered you,” Harry said, going for the obvious.

Eggsy scowled. “Yeah,” he said. When he didn’t say anything else, Harry thought he was going to have to push further, but as he opened his mouth to speak Eggsy found his words. “That’s just rude! How can she go assumin’ you’re her granddad? You don’t even look like her.”

When nothing more was forthcoming, Harry ventured, “Most children hardly look the spit of their grandparents.”

Eggsy scowled at him, then, and Harry blinked at it, unfamiliar with being on the receiving end of anything much negative from Eggsy. “You’re barely even – old enough.”

Harry caught the pause before the word _old_ , and realised this was it. He looked Eggsy back squarely. “I very much am,” he said, matter-of-factly. “And that clearly bothers you.”

“Don’t it bother you?” Eggsy shot back, obviously frustrated. “I mean, people lookin’, and judgin’, and… getting it wrong, and, even if they do get it right, you know, they got their _opinions_ and…” He breathed a hard sigh.

Harry considered his thoughts carefully before he spoke. “When I was younger,” he said, just about stopping himself from saying _your age_ because he could tell how well that would go down, “I would never have dreamed of going out in public with a man.”

Eggsy shot a little frown at him, confused. “As in… going out together, on a date. Visibly together.” Eggsy’s frown cleared, for a second. “It would have been… dangerous at the least, in some cases suicidal.” He could see from Eggsy’s face that he was about to protest. “It was only in 2001 that the age of consent for two men engaging in sexual acts was lowered to 16 in line with that of heterosexual couples.”

“What?” Eggsy said, clearly not expecting that. “Really?”

“Really,” Harry nodded. “I’m not saying things in my day,” he winced internally, but credited Eggsy when the boy didn’t react, “were as bad as they were, say, in the fifties. But they certainly weren’t the relatively carefree existence we have now.”

Eggsy gave him an unimpressed look. “Plenty of pubs I can take you to if you wanna get beat up for liking blokes,” he said.

Harry shook his head, frustrated. “Yes, but we would be able to make it to the pub. And on the way, I would be able to hold your hand – even kiss you if I wanted – without really expecting violence. Do you see?”

He waited until Eggsy acquiesced with a tilt of his head. Daisy said, “Da!” very loudly, and both of them looked to see her pointing at a squirrel in one of the trees.

“Squirrel, luv, that’s right,” Eggsy said, then turned his attention back to Harry.

“I still expect looks, comments, people’s _opinions_ as you say. That’s whether I’m with you or with someone my own age. Life is hardly a fairytale. But,” he sighed through his nose, glancing down to gather his thoughts again, “in comparison, those things are nothing. And when you grow up hiding this very important part of yourself, not being able to share it unless you really trust someone – and that was always a risk, finding out if you could – you don’t spend any time worrying about how you look together. Everything back then seemed fleeting. Desperate chances for meaningful contact. Even those who seemed to be managing something long-term… it still never felt that way, and for many it never made it.

“And when you’re already a – a pervert,” he pressed on as Eggsy’s eyes widened, “being with someone ten or twenty or _thirty_ years older or younger just doesn’t matter as much. It’s a much smaller pool to choose from, for a start. But besides, you don’t worry about how you’re going to look together, because… you’re hardly ever going to be seen together, outside of your little bubble, perhaps. The idea of _really_ being together, being married, having _children_ … it was laughable back then. It astounds me how far we’ve come, as a society. I mean, we’ve still got much further to go, but… my sensibilities about this were created in a different time. And I’m sorry for that.”

“Oh, _Harry_ ,” Eggsy said, after two or three seconds of silence, and he pulled Harry against him for a crushing hug before drawing back, studying him with a look of devastation and then taking Harry’s face in both his hands to pull him back together for a kiss, one that left Harry’s lips tingling and his brain a bit fuzzy.

“Eggsy?” he asked, a bit bemused, when the younger man let him go.

“I’m sorry,” Eggsy said, emphasising the words. He took Harry’s hand, mirroring the gesture Harry frequently made towards him. “You shouldn’t ‘ave to be sorry. You should get ta… kiss any blokes you want. Even me,” he grinned lightly, and Harry laughed.

“I just might take you up on that offer,” he said, and was pleased when Eggsy leant in for another kiss, this one more gentle.

He wasn’t foolish enough to think that was the matter all done and dusted, but at least now they were on the same page.

* * * * *

It was just as Eggsy was dropping off to sleep, all warm and comfortable, replaying the day he’d had with Harry and Daisy – even the awkward parts – and thinking about how lucky he was, that the nasty thought hit him.

It came out of nowhere, a sucker punch to the gut. He had to tell Junior.

Four weeks past the end of their sessions, he’d almost forgotten about the assessment on the day-to-day. Rochelle had visited in between, just checking up, and he’d had an email from his solicitor, but it seemed like all the individual people existed in some sort of strange world where they knew each other and all the intimate details of Daisy’s life, but they didn’t really talk to one another much. Or if they did, they didn’t let on to Eggsy. He’d got used to repeating himself, especially when both Junior and Rochelle were around.

He remembered now, though, Junior’s words at the end of their last session. “Just let me know if anything significant changes, okay? If you have to move, or you get into a relationship, anything like that.”

Eggsy had just nodded at the time, really not thinking anything would come up. It had been like the stuff with Daisy and the stuff with Harry at the shop were two separate parts of his life, almost, even if they did know about one another, and it had still been too early to really think that anything _significant_ might happen with Harry. Of course, Eggsy was an idiot, because having feelings for your older male boss was pretty fucking significant on its own, wasn’t it, never mind acting on them?

But now he was acting on them, and it was definitely significant, and that meant he had to tell Junior. Thinking about it, he should be expecting the bloke to call any day now with his report finished, but Eggsy knew it was missing a piece and while he was good at lying, when he needed to – you had to be, growing up around Dean – he knew in all honesty that it was relevant to Daisy. She was seeing the man at least a couple of times a week, Eggsy had even left her with Harry once for ten minutes while he made a run to the shop, and that might seem like nothing to some people but in a world where they had all the full names, phone numbers and email addresses of everyone who took care of her during the week, he knew it would mean something to the social workers. And to be honest, it meant something to him, too. It meant he trusted Harry.

Would they trust him, though? Or more accurately, would they trust Eggsy was right to trust him? Harry was pretty bland, at first glance. He was posh but not a snob, looked good but not stunning, was kind and generous and smart but he put up with all sorts of crap from customers, except never to the point that he was a doormat. He’d actually told a bloke to leave once – just once – and it had been amazing to watch, even though it was a horrible situation. The bloke had said something racist to Amos (Eggsy never found out exactly what, and it was early on enough he didn’t have the nerve to ask) and Harry had just given him this look of quiet impending thunder and said, “ _Sir_ , I must insist that you leave the premises,” and tracked him with his eyes, the bloke swearing under his breath, all the way to the door.

So yeah, Harry was pretty fucking amazing, which was why Eggsy liked him, but he still knew the whole thing was weird. It looked weird because it _was_ weird. He’d kissed Harry in the park because he really, _really_ liked him – that was as far as he was prepared to think about it, thank you – but he still knew that there were blokes in pubs, along with other people on the street who wanted to kick their heads in, and that more people thought it was fucked up than if Harry had been his age, and Eggsy _got that_. If Roxy had told him she’d got a boyfriend who was fifty he’d have been wondering what the fuck was wrong with the bloke, although at least a little bit of him would have also been thinking, “Get in there, mate,” which was just… weird, since he didn’t want to get in there with Roxy himself and if Roxy ever heard him say something like that to another man about her she’d have lamped him.

It would look, to so many other people, like Harry was using him in some way – or maybe to some other people, like he was using Harry. It made him angry thinking about it, all these stupid people with their stupid thoughts who he couldn’t blame because he would have thought the same bloody thing too, except he knew him and he knew Harry and it wasn’t anything like that. Harry would no sooner use him than he’d blow his nose on his lapel.

There was definitely a possibility that telling the truth about this would fuck up his chances with Daisy. All it would take was for Junior – or even someone else, his manager who had to sign the report off or Rochelle or one of the solicitors – to think something was a bit fucked up about this and it wasn’t the sort of thing a baby should be around, and they could decide Daisy shouldn’t stay with him.

Eggsy curled his knees tightly into his chest, lying on his side and facing Daisy in her cot. She was spark out on her back, arms starfished to her sides, not a care in the world. It physically hurt to think she might get taken away from him, even if it was to the nicest foster carers in the world, just because of somebody’s opinion about him and Harry.

He seriously considered just not telling; lying about it until the whole thing was sorted one way or the other. They wanted to make a decision by the end of Court proceedings, and that wasn’t that far away. Harry probably wouldn’t even mind if Eggsy said he wanted to step back a bit, take a breather, get his head round things… but that wasn’t fair, not to Harry, not even to Eggsy. And besides, if they found out anyway (and they knew so much about his life already, it was very possible) and he hadn’t told them, he _knew_ how that would go down.

He had to tell Junior. But it might really screw things up.

All the nice feelings from the day were gone, and Eggsy was left with a gnawing anxiety that stayed with him until the early hours.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, turns out when I looked at my notes again I decided the pacing of my final chapter wasn’t good enough and there were also other things that were fit to be seen, so plans have been extended by another chapter. Hope that works out well.
> 
> Again, as I’ve said before: Eggsy’s (and Harry’s when it’s him) thoughts in this chapter are his, not mine. He’s a lovely young man, but he has grown up in a very heteronormative culture, so we’ll have to make some allowances for now about the way he sees himself and Harry. If he’s still thinking this way in a year’s time then yes, Harry’s going to knock some sense into him.
> 
> Again again… Michelle makes some poor choices, to put it lightly, and I don’t condone them, but please remember she has been through some shit. She loves Eggsy and she knows she’s screwed things up for him and she’s scared for him. She wants to protect him even though she knows she can’t and he shares very little with her about himself. She doesn’t cope with these feelings well.
> 
> Also…go figure that the chapter with the porn in it is the longest. *Shrugs* I make no apologies.

“I’ll order it tomorrow,” Harry told Eggsy, just as his doorbell rang. “Don’t worry about it. Look, he’s here, I’ve got to go, darling.”

There was a moment’s pause, and then Eggsy said on the other end of the line, “Okay, course. Cheers, Harry. Speak later.” Eggsy ended the call, and it was then that Harry realised it was the first time he’d called Eggsy _darling_.

He couldn’t be certain, but he suspected Eggsy had liked it. At least, he hoped he had and that might help to quell the man’s nerves for a bit, since that had been the second phone call Eggsy had made to him since he left the shop not half an hour ago. The phone calls were ostensibly regarding work matters that couldn’t wait, but Harry knew for sure that they were related entirely to Eggsy’s nerves, the ones he wasn’t admitting to having.

Harry could hardly blame Eggsy, since he himself was pretending his own nerves were essentially nonexistent.

Harry took a last sweeping look around the parts of downstairs he could see on his way to the door, then opened it.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted Junior, who stood on the doorstep, a laptop bag slung over his shoulders. “Please, come in.”

“Hi! Thanks,” Junior said, and did. Harry led him through to the front room, gesturing for the young man to take a seat before sitting himself.

“Would you like a drink?” Harry offered just as Junior opened his mouth.

“Er… coffee, if you’ve got it?” Junior replied with a friendly smile.

“Of course,” said Harry, rising again. “Milk? Sugar?”

He wasn’t sure, a few moments later in the kitchen, whether making drinks was a good way to ease into this conversation, or whether it was just prolonging the agony. It didn’t really matter, he supposed, since there was no circumstance in which he wouldn’t have offered.

Harry stopped himself from drumming his fingers on the work surface while he waited for the kettle to boil, as if not physically showing his nerves would make them go away. Eventually the drinks were ready and he carried them through to the front room, finding Junior sitting expectantly with a large notebook on his lap. Harry noted several pieces of paper tucked inside it.

“Thanks,” Junior said as Harry placed a mug of coffee on the table before him. He waited for Harry to sit before continuing, “Now, as I said on the phone, what I’m here to do today is to talk to you about your – relationship with Eggsy.” Harry caught the barest hesitation there. “I understand you know all about the viability assessment he’s undergoing and why?”

Harry nodded. “He’s been very open with me about it.” He thought of adding, “He’s had to, as it’s impacted his work,” which was true and sort of why he’d known in the first place, but that didn’t really sound helpful in any sense, so he kept the thought back.

“Okay,” said Junior. “And I understand he’ll be joining us with Daisy in a bit?”

Harry glanced at the clock. “He should just be closing the shop now,” he said, “then he’ll collect Daisy and meet us here.” It was a bit of a pain in the arse for Eggsy, having to go from the shop to his own neighbourhood and then back the other way again to Harry’s, but Junior had asked to see Harry at home as well as them all together, and they’d talked about not hiding anything, even if it was uncomfortable.

Eggsy had almost been vibrating out of his skin just asking Harry if he would agree to talk to Junior, and if he’d asked Harry to describe all of his past sexual encounters to Junior in detail, including with diagrams, Harry wasn’t sure he could have said no. He did hope, however, this wasn’t what Junior was going to ask for.

“Great,” Junior said. “So, just to start us off, then: tell me about how this started.”

Harry did, unsure the entire time if he was giving too much detail or not enough, what Junior was thinking about what he said or how he said it, and thinking far more about how their relationship might be perceived than he would otherwise have cared to. He’d been truthful with Eggsy when he’d told him he just didn’t overly care about what others thought about them, but the unusual situation meant that unfortunately, what at least some people thought about them mattered.

Junior’s face was mostly impassive throughout; he took copious notes and occasionally interrupted to ask a clarifying question, but mostly just let Harry say what he was going to.

“Great, thank you,” said Junior when Harry made it clear he was finished by taking a sip of tea and sitting back. He glanced back over his notes, and Harry found himself trying to read them from a couple of feet away and then deliberately looked away. It was unlikely Junior would have written, _This old man is a pervert_.

“So,” Junior began, and Harry actually felt a little better seeing how he started to look a bit uncomfortable, like he wasn’t just really enjoying prying into someone’s private life. “Obviously, there are a few things about your relationship that are… a bit outside of the norm.” Harry was going to let him speak anyway, but he rushed on as if he expected Harry to protest at that point. “Which is fine, and not a necessary reason for concern, but it does mean I need to ask more questions to understand if there _is_ any… reason for concern.”

He stopped then, looking at Harry. Harry wasn’t sure what he was expected to say to that, so he said nothing. He’d promised Eggsy he wasn’t going to hide anything, but he wasn’t about to dig his own grave either (or rather, Daisy’s).

Junior cleared his throat and looked at his notebook again before he spoke. “You’re still Eggsy’s manager.” Harry inclined his head to agree, even though it wasn’t really a question. “And… this is, from what he’s told me, quite a significant job for him. Something it would impact on him to lose.”

“I don’t think there’s much chance of that,” Harry said, a bit bewildered by the idea. “He’s good. A quick learner, a hard worker. And,” he smiled a little here, though he tamped it down, “obviously I quite like working with him.”

Junior smiled back, and it seemed to be genuine. “Well, I’m glad to hear it’s going well. But you being his employer… as well as… quite a few years older than him-”

“Almost thirty,” Harry put in, unable to stop himself, because there was no point being vague about the fact, it was hardly unnoticeable.

To his credit, Junior just nodded in acknowledgement and continued without a change of expression. “So with both of those things, there is a power imbalance.”

He paused, possibly to see if Harry understood what he meant. Harry nodded, slowly. “I am very much aware of that,” he agreed. “But I have no intention of abusing it. I can see how some people would struggle to separate work and personal life, and might find it difficult to manage, but… I think we’re capable of making it work.”

It was all he could say. He couldn’t express, exactly, _why_ he thought it would work, just that he thought it would. And he knew in all honesty that the relationship itself might not work; there were a thousand reasons why it might not, not least the fact that Eggsy might well want something different in a few years’ time, when he felt confident enough of his own abilities or when Daisy needed less of his attention, or perhaps wasn’t even with him, or when he just simply reached a different stage of his life, but Harry just couldn’t live fearing all of that and letting it rule his decisions. _If_ the relationship didn’t last, he thought they would be both mature enough to be able to handle the work relationship still, and besides which Eggsy would be able to make it now even if they couldn’t, Harry was sure of it. He had acquaintances in the industry he could recommend Eggsy to, not that he ever hoped to need to.

The age gap was the age gap. He couldn’t say much more on that other than the fact that Eggsy was a fully consenting adult, and he rather hoped Junior already knew that.

“How do you think you would manage it if, say, you had to fire him?”

Harry had no idea how to answer that one for a good few seconds. “I really don’t think I would need to,” he said eventually, “but… if I did, I would have to. I think Eggsy would understand.” Harry hoped he would, because he couldn’t actually conceive of a situation in which it would be necessary.

They spoke a little more about work, how their relationship there was different to outside of work, and Harry imagined it felt a little like being cross-examined might feel, although Junior didn’t appear to be trying to trip him up. He continued to remain mostly impassive, taking his notes and occasionally doing so without looking at his notebook, just keeping eye contact with Harry, which was a little unnerving.

“So,” Junior said when they seemed to have exhausted the subject of Harry and Eggsy, “what do you think you are to Daisy?”

Harry considered this. “As far as she’s concerned,” he answered, “I’m a friend of Eggsy’s. Nothing more.”

Junior wrote this down. “And how would you feel about the fact that she could potentially remain in Eggsy’s care permanently?”

Harry smiled, then winced. He suspected it looked fairly odd. “It’s a difficult thought,” he said. “It would make him very happy. But he would also be very sad about the fact that it would mean his mother couldn’t care for her. Bittersweet, I think.”

Junior considered him. He hadn’t written anything. “And you?” he prompted. Harry frowned a little in confusion. “Having a partner with a child to bring up?”

“Oh,” Harry said, in sudden understanding. “I… I suppose it hadn’t really occurred to me that she wouldn’t be there.” He thought for a moment, staring at the mantelpiece. “I would certainly miss her. But I suppose, if she were to return to the care of Eggsy’s mother, we would still be able to see her?”

Junior didn’t reply to that, but Harry caught a small smile spread across his face as he made his notes. Harry hoped that was a good thing.

They finished their conversation a while before Eggsy was likely to arrive, so Harry asked if Junior would mind if he excused himself to catch up on some work. Harry considered going to his sewing room, but it felt rude to leave a guest alone downstairs out of earshot, so he went to the dining room with his laptop instead and tried to work on the month’s accounts. _Tried_ being the operative word, because he was expending most of his energy trying not to think over everything that had been said. What was done was done, and he just wanted to see Eggsy, say goodbye to Junior and enjoy some time together.

Finally the doorbell rang, and Harry went to answer it.

“All right?” Eggsy said as he stood at the bottom of the steps, half a greeting and half a question. He was smiling, but there were definite nerves there still.

Harry smiled back at him, stepping down so as to help lift the pushchair up the steps. He already felt better for seeing the other man, never mind that they’d been together most of the day. He might have worried that these feelings were too soon, but the way Eggsy gave him a genuine smile as he stepped down brushed any of those thoughts away, and he stepped into Eggsy’s arms for a quick – if not entirely chaste – kiss in greeting before pulling back to lift the pushchair.

Junior was standing in the doorway of the front room when they came in. “Hi, Eggsy,” he greeted. “Hello, Daisy!” Daisy looked at him, didn’t smile but reached out a hand before aborting the moment suddenly and turning round to crane her head up at Eggsy.

“I’ll just get her sorted, you go on through,” Eggsy said, pulling the bag off the back of the chair. “Just needs a quick nappy change.”

Harry and Junior dutifully returned to the front room and waited in awkward silence for Eggsy and Daisy.

They joined the party only a minute or two later, Daisy taking advantage of the chance to stretch her legs. She toddled through the open doorway, Eggsy behind her.

Daisy turned to her left almost immediately, stopping at the side of the sofa to look up at Junior who sat on the end. “Hiya,” Junior said to her in a sing-song voice. “Where are you going?”

“Wherever she can make mischief, mostly,” Eggsy said with a wry tone. “Here, Daise, shall we sit down and have a look at a book?”

Daisy ignored him, as she often did when she decided what he was saying wasn’t interesting enough. Harry had learned quickly that she understood a remarkable amount of what was said to her, even if she couldn’t respond to it verbally. She was definitely selective about whether she acknowledged it, however.

Instead of paying attention to Eggsy, Daisy turned to her right, and caught sight of Harry sitting in the armchair. He smiled at her. She gave him a sunny smile back, and took a few steps forward to grasp onto his trouser leg.

“Oh – she’s still a bit grimy,” Eggsy said, but Harry ignored him and reached out to pick her up.

Daisy grinned as Harry settled her on his lap. “And just what have you been up to today, little miss?”

She shuffled forward on his lap – he kept his hands under her armpits so she wouldn’t topple backward – and reached out to grab at the top button on his jacket. “Da!” she said.

“You’ve been learning about buttons?” Harry asked. “Well, that’s a good day, I’d say.”

Daisy didn’t reply, concentrating on trying to manipulate the button; Harry wasn’t quite sure how, but she seemed to be fine with not achieving much. He glanced up and found Junior smiling slightly at him, and Eggsy, to his left, looking at him with such a soft, wide smile that he had to look away for fear of embarrassing himself in company.

Well. At least now his nerves had gone.

* * * * *

“What’s up?” Harry finally asked, after about the third time Eggsy had shifted under his arm. They were on Harry’s sofa, _Tinker Tailor Solider Spy_ playing on the TV. Neither of them had seen it before and only a quarter of an hour in, they had already agreed that the life of a spy mostly seemed to be pretty boring, except when you got killed.

“Jus’ keep thinking I’ve gotta see what Daisy’s up to,” Eggsy replied, smiling a bit sheepishly. “Never seem to be anywhere ‘cept work without her.” He’d been looking forward to this night all week, ever since Roxy had found out nobody else knew about Harry yet (or at least not the boyfriend part) and told him, long-suffering like, that she would watch Daisy for an evening so they could spend some time together, just so long as she could bring Tom over as well.

Eggsy tried not to think about what state his sofa might be in when he got home. He’d put a blanket over it before he left, hoping that would be sufficient.

Harry kissed the side of Eggsy’s head. “I should hope she is still at home where you left her.”

“I should hope so too,” Eggsy said, putting on a bit of his posh voice but smiling through it, and Harry smiled back at him before turning back to the film.

It didn’t take long for Eggsy to get thoroughly bored with it. He didn’t really mean to distract Harry, seeing as it was something they’d agreed to watch, but he started by snuggling in closer and then placing little kisses on Harry’s hand – the one that wasn’t already over his shoulders – and then Harry was pulling his hand away, except only to tilt his head so that they could kiss properly. So in Eggsy’s defence, it didn’t seem like Harry was all that bothered with the film either.

It was really fucking enjoyable, Eggsy thought a few minutes later, to be able to just kiss without being interrupted. Harry had even switched the TV off. It rarely happened; at work they didn’t tend to much because even if it was just them in the shop, it was still work, and it was too distracting to have Harry’s tongue in his mouth and his hands casually shoving Eggsy’s shirt out of the way to span across his side. At home Daisy was usually there, and even in the few evenings they’d spent together she’d be snuffling on the baby monitor, a constant reminder that they weren’t alone.

They were, however, alone tonight.

The arousal didn’t so much creep up on Eggsy as go from the low buzz of ‘Mm, this is nice’ to ‘Fuck yeah, let’s do this’ in quite a short amount of time. One moment Harry was casually licking all around Eggsy’s mouth and Eggsy was quite happily letting him, the next he was shifting to try and get closer, get more of his body against Harry’s.

Harry made a pleased-sounding noise in the back of his throat, then pulled back for a second, breathing heavily. There was a quick pause before he came back, but this time aimed for Eggsy’s throat instead of his mouth. Eggsy groaned quietly as he felt Harry’s lips, then his tongue, then just a hint of teeth at the base of his neck. He wasn’t sure the spot would be entirely covered by a collar, even in his proper work shirts. He _was_ sure Harry was going to leave a mark, and he was also sure that he didn’t quite care.

Eggsy breathed as Harry worked steadily at his neck, reaching out to drag Harry’s shirt out from under his waistband and then shoving his hand unceremoniously underneath it. He found a trim stomach with just a layer of softness, then a patch of fairly dense chest hair as his hand moved upward. He wanted to feel it against him. Eggsy put a hand to Harry’s back, exerting a little bit of pressure as he would usually when he wanted a bird to climb into his lap, but quickly released it as he realised that wasn’t going to happen.

Instead – as Harry moved away from his neck and came back to his lips, which was just as distracting again but in a different way – he shifted, about to climb into _Harry’s_ lap, until the thought _Is that weird?_ popped up and made him stop. Frustrated, he breathed into Harry’s mouth, trying to figure out a way round the problem.

Harry sensed it, because he was wired into Eggsy’s brain or something. Eggsy looked up from where he’d been staring at Harry’s chest to find the other man looking at him closely, his eyes dark with want.

“Is this okay?” Harry asked him, despite the fact that Eggsy’s breathing must have told him it was more than okay.

“Yeah,” Eggsy breathed. He leaned in to kiss Harry again, just quickly. “I jus’… I want…”

He couldn’t make himself say it. It just sounded too much like something a girl would say. Eggsy knew he was apparently not the textbook version of masculinity these days, given that he thought about Harry’s cock and what he could do with it – or what it could do to him – on a regular basis, but he was also still very much not a girl. Harry wasn’t attracted to girls, besides.

How the fuck did blokes figure out how to do it?

Harry stared at him for another tense few seconds, then just said, “Come here,” and _pulled_ Eggsy onto his lap, not giving him time to process that before he brought their mouths together again.

Eggsy maybe should have cared about the ease with which Harry was able to move him, and how he was getting Eggsy to be the bird in this situation. Eggsy did not care.

Sitting on Harry’s lap was nice. He pressed his body against Harry’s everywhere he could, grinning against Harry’s mouth when he got a moan in response. He reached down to shove Harry’s shirt up again, along with his own, and revelled in the simple delight of feeling skin against skin.

He was hard in his jeans, and it was beginning to get uncomfortable but it was also maybe the best thing ever at the same time. He didn’t really want to stop to sort it out.

Except moments after that thought, there was a new best thing ever, because Harry was touching him. All it was at first was a light pressure over his cock, then firmer as Harry grasped him and Eggsy let his mouth fall open, panting heavily against Harry’s mouth.

“Lovely,” Harry said, clearly teasing and sounding unfairly composed, although Eggsy could hear his breathing was still definitely not at a normal resting rate. He began to squeeze and stroke Eggsy, slowly but just enough that it was fucking maddening.

“Harry,” Eggsy groaned.

“Yes, my darling?”

Harry was fucking with him.

“Fuckin’… want you,” Eggsy said, and was surprised for a moment to find that he really, _really_ did, whatever the fuck that meant. If Harry suggested he wanted to fuck Eggsy with his toes and then toss off into his hair, Eggsy wasn’t sure he’d have said no at this point. He’d wondered, several times after tossing off himself thinking about Harry, whether in the moment he’d just freak out, find being with a bloke too weird, too hairy and muscular and all that. Turned out apparently his body did not care about that at all, was finding Harry’s strength and his _amazing_ chest hair a massive turn on, and he just wanted more of all of it.

“What do you want?” Harry asked, moving closer again to speak the words against his lips, and Eggsy groaned and kissed him instead of answering. Harry was still gently stroking him as they kissed, and Eggsy was about to tell him he’d have to stop unless he wanted it to end soon when he realised – Harry probably had one of those as well.

He laughed, suddenly, against Harry’s mouth, and decided not to answer when Harry asked him what he was laughing at. Instead he resumed the kiss, and took his hand off where it had been resting on Harry’s back to insinuate it between them, finding his target quickly and grasping firmly, just shy of too hard to be uncomfortable.

Gratifyingly, Harry took a sharp intake of breath. “Yes,” he said, hissing a little.

“Yeah?” Eggsy breathed back, distracted for a moment from his own cock by exploring Harry’s. It was hard to tell for sure under the suit trousers and underwear, but he felt it was about the same size as his, maybe a bit thinner. It seemed Harry had got a bit distracted by that as well, since he stopped stroking Eggsy for a moment and just left his hand splayed out across Eggsy’s thigh. He squeezed it once, on the back of Eggsy running his fingernail up the side of Harry’s cock, and Eggsy jumped. It was somehow more erotic having Harry almost touching his dick than actually doing it.

“Can I get you out?” Eggsy asked, as soon as the thought came into his head and before he lost the nerve. He still wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to do, except for the moment explore, but Harry seemed to be right on board with that as he nodded and began to undo his belt. Together they worked to undo his trousers, and when there was just about enough room to move Eggsy put a hand over Harry’s cock again, this time just covered in his pants.

“Eggsy,” Harry groaned, then didn’t say anything else. He kissed Eggsy again, a bit more sloppy this time, and reached to touch Eggsy’s cock again.

Eggsy didn’t want to get distracted. He pulled the waistband of Harry’s pants down, just enough, and pulled his cock free. It was… well, it was a cock, slightly weird looking and angry-red and, in this particular case, quite veiny. It was also for some reason the thing that Eggsy was most interested in right at this moment.

He wrapped his hand around it, grasping it tightly. Harry leaned back to take a breath, and Eggsy leaned forward, although tilted his head to the side so that it was resting against Harry’s shoulder. He shoved his nose against Harry’s neck as he stroked the man’s cock, slowly at first and then more surely as he felt Harry responding in the way he wanted. Harry smelled good, partly his aftershave and partly a tinge of sweat, and Eggsy stuck his tongue out against Harry’s neck to taste the salt.

They stayed like this for a while, Eggsy lapping gently at Harry’s neck while tugging him steadily. Eggsy paused for a moment to lick his hand, and Harry’s hips squirmed when he put his hand back on Harry’s cock. He brought his other hand down to join in, reaching further into Harry’s pants to cup under his balls. They were already drawn tight against his body and he tugged gently on them once, experimentally. It didn’t seem to elicit much reaction, but when he moved his hand up to join the one on Harry’s dick Harry said, in a voice that sounded a good amount of fucked out, “Touch them again,” so Eggsy did, pleased when Harry moaned in response. He stroked them gently, in a sort of counterpoint rhythm to what he was doing with Harry’s cock.

Harry had apparently decided he couldn’t concentrate on Eggsy just now, or at least on getting Eggsy wound up, because one of his hands had come to rest on Eggsy’s thigh again and the other one was resting on his neck, sometimes stroking gently with his thumb. Eggsy was actually pretty fucking fine with this, since touching Harry itself was turning him on beyond what was probably decent, and the points where Harry was touching him were like spots of heat and arousal anyway. He couldn’t have focused with more stimulation. Even so, his body was a bit more needy than his mind, and a few times he found himself rocking his hips into Harry’s, laughing breathily as Harry gasped, probably at the pleasure-pain of denim dragging up his dick.

Harry’s cock was starting to drip quite noticeably now, and Eggsy brought his thumb up to swipe across the head, pushing the foreskin back again with his fingers and spreading the fluid around a bit more. As expected, this caused Harry to start a little, and Eggsy grinned at the weird enjoyment he was getting from making Harry feel this way, doing what he’d normally be doing to himself. Much of it was different – he didn’t produce this much precum, his cock wasn’t this straight, Harry’s head was a bit more prominent – but basically, the mechanics were the same.

“Harder, please,” Harry said, and Eggsy took that in stride, never let it be said he let a man down, as he gripped more firmly. The precum made it a bit easier to slide a little faster too, and Eggsy started kissing Harry’s neck, up to his jawline and down again as he felt the cock throb in his hand.

“I’m going to-” Harry warned him, biting off the sentence with a sharp intake of breath, and Eggsy gave him just that touch more pressure on his cock, let his fingertips drift just behind Harry’s ballsack, pressing gently, and Harry was gone, his body taughtening for several moments before he pulsed once, twice, then a third time into Eggsy’s ready and waiting palm. He let out a low groan as he came, and Eggsy flattened his tongue against Harry’s skin, feeling for his pulse which was jumping just underneath.

Eggsy gave Harry a few gentle strokes beyond that, eking out the last bits of pleasure before Harry became too overstimulated and pushed his hand away gently. Eggsy raised his head to see Harry’s face. Harry was lying back against the sofa cushion, eyes closed, mouth open and looking pretty fucking fit all messed up.

He waited for Harry’s eyes to open, and was rewarded with a slow and salacious smile spreading across the man’s face. “Not bad,” Harry said, teasing.

“Oi!” Eggsy retorted, smacking Harry’s stomach with the back of his hand, and then they both grinned at each other. Eggsy’s grin dropped quickly as he realised his hand was still covered in Harry’s come. He held it up and raised his eyebrows, and Harry smiled briefly before gesturing to the coffee table behind them where there was a box of tissues.

“Prepared, ain’t you?” Eggsy said as he wiped his hand off, throwing the tissue somewhere in the vicinity of the bin. His legs felt a bit wobbly as he’d climbed off Harry’s lap to get the tissue, and it was that that made him realise he was still completely hard and also entirely dressed.

“I try,” Harry said. “Now, come here,” and he tugged Eggsy back onto his lap.

Eggsy went willingly, and they kissed again for a few moments, with a bit more finesse than the last time. However, Harry pulled back then and said, like he was talking about the weather, “I would very much like to suck you off, Eggsy,” and Eggsy’s dick decided it was gonna try its hardest to… well, get even harder than it already was.

“Sounds good to me,” he breathed back, and no sooner had he got the words out than Harry was rolling them over, depositing Eggsy in the seat next to them before he slid himself down to the floor. Eggsy looked at him, this man with silver shot through his hair and obvious laughter lines in his face and wearing his rumpled and undone bespoke suit trousers at nine thirty in the evening at home and thought _Fuck, that’s hot_ as the same man focused all his attention single-mindedly on Eggsy’s crotch.

His cock was out before he knew what was happening, but he did know for sure he wasn’t going to last long. Even the way Harry was _looking_ at it was bringing him closer to the edge.

Harry did that, just looked, for a good few seconds, like he was sizing it up. Eggsy had the sudden absurd thought that maybe he was, taking his measurements with his eye just like he did at work, and laughed out loud.

Harry looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Should I be offended?” he asked.

“Nah,” Eggsy told him, grinning. “Not at all, bruv.”

“Ugh,” Harry replied, grimacing, “that’s an incentive to stop you talking,” and without any further warning he leant forward and took the head of Eggsy’s cock into his mouth, forming a tight, wet seal around it.

Eggsy made an undignified and wholly appropriate noise and let his head drop back against the cushions.

Harry pulled off, said, “That’s better,” like he was correcting Eggsy’s sewing technique, and then used one hand to pull Eggsy’s foreskin back before he put out his tongue to lick firmly and repeatedly over the glans. It was fucking torture of the best kind.

As soon as he got into the rhythm of that, Harry stopped, and ducked his head lower to start pressing mouthy, wet kisses at the bottom of Eggsy’s dick. Harry’s head was pressed against Eggsy’s stomach, and he rested his hand on the back of it, not intending to try and push like some dickheads did, but he’d always liked having that connection with someone in some place other than his dick when this was happening.

Harry paused for half a second, looked up at him, then used the hand that wasn’t holding Eggsy’s cock steady to grab Eggsy’s hand and thread their fingers together. It was fucking… sweet, and he didn’t know why that made it hot, but he clenched Harry’s hand back as he squeezed his eyes shut. Harry resumed his wet kissing of Eggsy’s dick, making his way up one side, across the top – with added tongue – and down the other.

“Fuck,” Eggsy hissed. “You’re just fucking… god, Harry.”

Harry pulled back long enough to smirk, “Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” and then of course the next thing he did was to take the whole of Eggsy’s cock into his mouth all at once, pushing his tongue firmly up against the underside, and Eggsy was just consumed by this heat and pressure and – separately but also totally conjoined – the place where his hand was still gripping Harry’s.

Harry _sucked_ , pulled back, sucked again, and Eggsy had half a moment’s thought of _This is gonna be embarrassing_ before it was wiped away by arousal.

He whined in the back of his throat, as Harry jacked him slowly at the very base of his cock before taking it into his mouth again. Eggsy made the mistake of opening his eyes at that point, looking down to see this flushed and devilish man gazing up at him pseudo-innocently like he wasn’t in the middle of giving a really fantastic blowie, and Eggsy was there.

“Gonna come,” he warned, again on a whine, eyes squeezing shut again and feeling his stomach and other muscles contract, and Harry _hummed_ around him and Eggsy could do nothing else but let go, straight into Harry’s mouth.

He opened his eyes a second or three after the last pulse, found Harry just starting to pull away with a string of come dangling between Eggsy’s dick and Harry’s lip, and was subjected to another aftershock at the filthy hot sight of it.

Harry reached behind him for a tissue, spat discreetly into it, coughed and threw it neatly into the bin.

Eggsy stared at him, eyes a bit glazed over, wondering idly if he was going to start freaking out _now_. It didn’t seem like it.

Harry met his eyes again. “All right?” he asked, and he didn’t sound like he was worried Eggsy wasn’t, really, but Eggsy knew part of him kind of genuinely was, was open to the possibility that Eggsy might not be, and Eggsy just grinned stupidly at him.

“I wanna suck you next time,” Eggsy said, not even processing the words until after they’d left his mouth, and he had that moment of realisation while Harry laughed.

“I’m afraid, darling, you’ll have to wait for that.” Harry pushed himself to his feet, and Eggsy idly noticed he was still dressed, not that he’d had any time to get undressed. “I’m too old to get it up again any time soon.”

Eggsy snorted. “Just makes the anticipation better, innit?” he said, and suddenly Harry was looming over him, pushing his tongue into Eggsy’s mouth and okay, tasting himself was a bit gross, he’d never particularly liked it, but he would do it all fucking day if it meant sex like this again.

It was definitely better than the spy film.

* * * * *

Harry was, he had to admit, more than a little worried.

It was a midweek morning and he was getting ready to open the shop. It was, as usual, just him there; Eggsy wasn’t due in until nine. Unfortunately, there was a small part of him wondering whether Eggsy was going to turn up at all. The bigger, more rational part of his brain argued that the likelihood of Eggsy either choosing not or being unable to turn up was extremely unlikely. The small part was quite loud, though, and distracting. He spent two solid minutes looking for the cash drawer before realising he’d already put it in the till.

It wasn’t that Eggsy had said anything in particular to make him worried. It was, in fact, the opposite; that Eggsy _hadn’t_ said anything; at least not since six thirty last night. These days they were in contact on a daily basis (outside of the seven or nine hours they spent together at work, that was) and Harry had wondered briefly how long it would last, how soon they would run out of things to say, but he didn’t think it had happened already or quite so abruptly. There were nights when he expected less, such as those when Michelle went to Eggsy’s to see Daisy, or when he had plans to see his friends (which was a lot less frequent), but Eggsy hadn’t told him about anything going on last night.

Harry had sent two texts: one not long after they left the shop, commenting on a banal thing he saw on his way home which he could scarcely remember now, and a second around eight thirty, picking up an earlier thread of conversation about global warming. It was an ongoing debate that Harry quite enjoyed. It wasn’t until nearer bedtime that he started to get worried about the lack of response, but he couldn’t quite justify making a phone call, knowing it was entirely possible that Eggsy had just got caught up with something, or his phone was on mute, or something else.

It was, therefore, with a sense of relief that he spotted Eggsy striding up to the door, ten minutes earlier than usual. He hurried forward to unlock it, and let Eggsy in before the door closed behind him.

He caught a brief glance of a mulish look on Eggsy’s face before the other man crowded into his space and gave him a firm but chaste kiss, his arms wrapped firmly around Harry’s back. When he pulled his lips away, the rest of him remained. Harry raised his eyebrows in question, letting himself be held and putting his own hands on Eggsy’s biceps.

“I ‘ad a shit night,” Eggsy said.

Harry waited; Eggsy leaned in to rest his head briefly on Harry’s shoulder, exhaled as Harry stroked his hands up and down Eggsy’s arms, and stood back, this time putting a bit of space between them.

“Anythin’ need doing?” Eggsy asked.

“Nothing that can’t wait, darling,” Harry said, like he’d have said anything else even if one of the royal family were due in (it had happened, once; it was a logistical nightmare and frankly not worth the effort). “What happened?”

Eggsy sighed and drifted towards the back room. Harry turned to lock the door again before he followed, and they came to sit at the lunch table in the back.

“My mum,” Eggsy said. “She went mental.” He seemed to need time working out how to tell the story, so Harry stayed quiet, sat across from him. He wanted to reach out to hold Eggsy’s hand, but Eggsy was slumped in his own chair, creases be damned, and didn’t seem to be seeking comfort right now.

“You know it’s Daisy’s meeting tomorrow?” Eggsy said. Harry nodded. “Well, they write this report for it. I mean, everyone seems to, ‘cept me and mum, but the social worker’s one was the one she got yesterday.”

“Junior’s?” Harry asked, a cold strand of dread beginning to creep through him. They’d been waiting for the outcome of his meeting with Harry for a couple of weeks now, even though Junior had said he didn’t expect it to take more than a week for him to update his report.

“No,” Eggsy said, but he didn’t look relieved. “Rochelle’s. She knows everything though, I mean I told her last time we spoke and… she put it in her report.”

Harry was at a loss as to what this meant, so he simply stayed quiet.

“Mum was screaming at me,” Eggsy said, and the way he was looking into the middle distance it seemed he was reliving it there and then. “Told me I was _whoring myself out_ with a sugar daddy and fucking… what was it gonna do to Daisy, bein’ around that. All this _bollocks_.” He was angry and sad altogether, and Harry desperately wanted to hug him, but he wasn’t finished.

“I ‘ad to stop myself from hitting her,” Eggsy said, looking Harry dead in the eyes at that. Harry had never seen him like this before; he looked ready to throw a punch at any moment, fists curled up at his sides, and he wondered if this wasn’t who Eggsy was sometimes, when he wasn’t around Harry and his genteel lifestyle. It probably should have worried him more. It didn’t. “I really wanted to, for a second,” he said, and his voice wavered on those last words and Harry knew that was why he wasn’t scared of this young man, because even if he had the capacity to be dangerous, he didn’t actually want to hurt people.

“But that would make me just like him, y’know,” he continued, “and I ain’t. I ain’t. But I was fucking scared for a second I might be.”

“But you’re not,” Harry said, unable to stay quiet. “You’re a much better man, Eggsy.” He leaned forward, intent, but restrained himself again from reaching out.

Eggsy scoffed at that, but he didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“I just couldn’t say anything in the end,” he said, picking up the story. “I just opened the door and told her to get out. And then she told me if she told Dean he’d go mental and I…” he shook his head. “Why the _fuck_ does she even care?” he spat.

Harry had no reply for that, but in a moment he was standing, as Eggsy launched himself into Harry’s arms again. He held on tightly as Eggsy gripped him back, breath hitching as he clearly tried not to cry.

“Why does she even care?” he repeated, plaintive, into Harry’s shoulder.

Harry couldn’t hope to answer, because the only thing he cared about was right here. He held him, and vowed to himself to make sure Eggsy always knew that.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the middle scene in this chapter was meant to be a bit different, but Harry decided he wasn’t having the version I had planned so here is this instead. I have to admit I can visualise the end of this more clearly than possibly any other scene so far, even though it’s quite far removed from the rest of the story, and it’s made me giggle repeatedly. Hope you guys find it as amusing!

Eggsy was mid-way through a seam when his mobile buzzed on the edge of the table. It was covered by fabric so he couldn’t see the screen, but when it didn’t buzz again he guessed it wasn’t a call and continued to the end of the seam.

Pleased with his work, he put the jacket to one side and picked his phone up. The notification was for an email, not a message, and he almost ignored it out of habit before his eyes caught on the sender’s name and the subject line.

Eggsy felt his stomach do a sort of drop and bounce, then got up and went through to the front of the shop, gaze still locked on his phone until the last second.

He glanced up, and found the front thankfully and unusually devoid of customers. “Harry,” he said, and his tone caused Harry to frown as he turned round. “Junior’s sent me the report.”

Harry’s face cleared into surprise immediately. “What does it say?” he asked, stepping forward half a step so he was in Eggsy’s personal space.

“I don’t know,” Eggsy said, realising as it did he sounded pretty stupid. “I ain’t read it yet.”

Harry gave him a look that was a smile threatening to break out, and Eggsy couldn’t help but laugh nervously back, at his own expense. “Come on then,” said Harry.

They took positions facing the door, side by side, and peered at the phone. Eggsy woke the screen, entered his passcode and this time, tapped the notification instead of just staring at it.

“Well, that explains the delay,” Harry said as they both skimmed through the email. Junior was apologising for it and said he’d been off sick for the past two weeks.

“Mm,” Eggsy said, not really taking in much from the email itself, because it didn’t contain the thing he really wanted to know, which was essentially a PASS or FAIL mark. “Shall I open it?”

“The report?” Harry said. Eggsy nodded. “No, I think we could leave it for some bedtime reading.”

There was a second as they stared at one another, until Eggsy said, “You dick,” jostled Harry in the arm and tapped to open the attachment.

Three pages in, after Harry had said Eggsy was scrolling too fast and Eggsy had forced himself to slow down, they were interrupted by a customer. Eggsy had gone into the back, both of them aware he wasn’t in the right head space to be useful at the moment, but he didn’t carry on reading, waiting instead on his toes for the man to leave. After approximately half the time between the start of the universe to the beginning of that day, the door opened and Harry stuck his head in.

“Well?”

Eggsy shook his head. “I ent read any more.”

Harry tipped his head to the side, giving Eggsy a fond smile. “Come on then.”

They picked up the report from where they’d left off, but only a page later Eggsy was finding it so difficult to keep still that Harry had had to hold the phone so they could actually read the screen, and Eggsy said, “I just wanna skip to the end.”

Harry looked at him for a second in question, before wordlessly handing the phone back. Eggsy took it and scrolled fast a few times, the report speeding past his fingers and reaching the end with an inaudible thud. Eggsy took a deep breath and looked down. Then he had to scroll back up a bit again, more carefully this time, to get past the signatures and dates and other things. He stopped when his eyes alit upon one sentence: _I recommend that a Special Guardianship Order assessment is carried out in regards to Mr Unwin and Daisy._

Eggsy frowned. That seemed like a good thing – Junior and Rochelle had told him that was what would happen next if the viability assessment went to plan. Yet it was still very bland, and didn’t exactly say that he thought Eggsy taking care of Daisy was a good thing. Eggsy focused back on the report and scrolled a bit further up, skimming as he went. He stopped and a grin spread across his face as he got to the sentence: _This assessment identifies that Mr Unwin is able to provide for Daisy’s needs, both currently and those expected in the future._

He read the rest of the conclusion, but it was a bit of a blur; the relief had hit harder than he’d expected and he knew he would need to read the rest properly at some point. He handed the phone to Harry, who took it with raised eyebrows. Eggsy just shook his head. “I’ll rest the read later,” he said. “Too small on that thing.”

Harry smiled at him and – after glancing around just to double check no customers had snuck in while they weren’t paying attention – leant in to kiss him. It was just a firm press of lips at first, but as Eggsy felt Harry start to pull away he put a hand behind Harry’s head and gently pulled him back, so the kiss lasted a little longer before it started to get a bit Not Safe For Work and reluctantly, Eggsy pulled back. He grinned a little at the way Harry tried to chase his lips and gave him a little pout before clearing his throat and smoothing his suit down, like he was putting his professional persona back on.

Eggsy loved knowing that, though he might pretend otherwise, Harry Hart was certainly not _always_ a gentleman.

Harry handed him the phone back. “You don’t wanna read it?” Eggsy asked.

Harry shook his head. “I can read it another time,” he said. “If you want me to?”

“Yeah, course,” Eggsy said, and leaned in to kiss Harry again, just briefly this time. “I’ll email it you.” It was weird, now he thought about it, but he really did want Harry to read it. He didn’t know what the report said, and he knew it was pretty personal given everything he’d shared with Junior, but he wanted to share that – all of that – with Harry.

He realised, reflecting on Roxy’s words of almost three months ago now, that he really _would_ have to apologise to Jamal pretty soon, though it wouldn’t be so much about Harry replacing him as Eggsy’s best friend, as Eggsy not telling his best friend about how important Harry was to him. He’d sort that one out. Soon.

“Feeling better, now?” Harry asked, pulling Eggsy out of his thoughts.

Eggsy glanced up at him. He was leaning against Harry’s side a bit, and noticed it but decided it didn’t matter until the door opened. “Yeah,” he said, though the reality was a bit more complex. They could talk about it more later when they weren’t at work.

However, there were other things playing on his mind, separate from the report (though he was bloody glad they’d got that out of the way). “It’s Court tomorrow though, innit.”

At 9:30 tomorrow morning, instead of cleaning and oiling the machines like he should be, Eggsy was going to be meeting Ruksana, who wasn’t his solicitor but would be there in his stead for some reason, at the Central Family Court. It was the first hearing Eggsy had been asked to attend, though he knew his mum had been at least a couple of times before, and from what his solicitor had told him so far the setup didn’t make any sense. The solicitors had to be there by nine, except they might not see the Judge until ten, although it might easily be eleven or twelve, and even though it had been weeks since they first went to Court it wouldn’t be the last time either.

“Of course,” Harry said. It wasn’t like he had forgotten about Eggsy being in Court; he’d had to ask Amos to cover whatever part of the day that he could around his uni timetable. “This should make it a little easier, though, should it not?” He gestured vaguely to the phone still in Eggsy’s hand, meaning the report.

“Yeah…” Eggsy said. “Still, though. Ain’t never been Court before.” He threw a cheeky grin at Harry. “Only ‘cause I never got _caught_ ,” and was rewarded with an eye roll and an indulgent smile. Eggsy took a second to thrill at the knowledge that he could make that joke and Harry wouldn’t misunderstand it, assume he actually was admitting to a previous life of crime. It wasn’t like Eggsy was an angel, but he was clean enough that at least one social worker thought he was all right to look after a baby.

He said the next thing on a whim, the thought popping into his head and staying there as an imagined scene. “Would you come with me?”

Harry looked a bit stunned, which wasn’t really unexpected. “To Court?”

Eggsy nodded.

“I’m not sure…” Harry looked like he was thinking it over. Eggsy wasn’t sure if he wanted him to say yes or no. “I don’t know if that would be a good idea.”

“Why?” Eggsy frowned. “You’d look like you belong there. And not in the way _I_ would,” he added, and Harry smiled briefly and shook his head before a little frown came back.

“Even assuming everyone is now aware of the nature of our relationship,” Harry said, turning now to face Eggsy properly, “I’m still not sure it would be of benefit to provide them with a visual reminder.” Eggsy didn’t really know what to say to that, and Harry added, “I don’t want to ruin your chances, darling.”

“If they’re not gonna let me look after Daisy just because I’m with you,” Eggsy said, unable not to imagine the judgemental stares and hushed whispers as soon as Harry alluded to it, pissed off on Harry’s behalf, “then the world is wrong anyway. I don’t care.”

Harry looked at him for a few moments before he replied. “What would you do,” he asked, “if they told you you could only keep Daisy if you broke things off with me?”

The thought sent a nasty spike through Eggsy’s gut. “They wouldn’t,” he said. “They can’t.”

“They might,” Harry said, and Eggsy hated it but knew he could be right. “So if they did…?”

Eggsy looked away from his partner, his breath coming just a bit faster. Even though it was what he’d been scared of since the moment he realised he had to tell Junior about Harry, he hadn’t really wanted to actually think about it, what it would mean in real terms. The past month had only brought them closer together, and it made it that much harder. Harry was asking, though, and he deserved an answer.

“I’d –” he started, half-choking on the word as it didn’t come out right, and stopped to swallow. “I’d ‘ave ta…” He looked Harry in the eyes, then, but said on a whisper, “I’d ‘ave ta break up with you.”

To his confusion, Harry smiled. It was the kind of smile he gave Eggsy when he watched him taking care of Daisy, which he did quite a lot and had told Eggsy he liked it, though he didn’t really know why. Eggsy thought it was because he was a soft old git, and had told him so, but Harry hadn’t admitted to that yet.

“Good,” he said, and leant a little into Eggsy’s space, putting his hands on Eggsy’s upper arms. “That’s the right answer.” As Eggsy quirked an eyebrow at him, he added, “That’s why I love you.”

Eggsy’s breath caught for a second. He stared at Harry as Harry just smiled back at him, all casual like he hadn’t just said that and wasn’t the most fucking ridiculously perfect man ever.

And then, because he was, Harry didn’t just stand around and wait for Eggsy to sort his shit out and get all uncomfortable and weird because Eggsy hadn’t immediately said, “I love you too,” back. Instead he just leaned in and kissed Eggsy fucking _thoroughly_ , and the moment was broken a minute or so later when the bell over the door rang, but the feeling stayed with him all the way to the end of the day.

* * * * *

“I really don’t know why you think I would be any help to you,” Harry told Hamish, fingering the arm of an overpriced wool jumper dispassionately before dropping it. Two racks over, Hamish was frowning at some jackets like they’d greatly disappointed him and he was expecting them to buck up and do better. Harry smirked to himself, knowing Hamish hated it when he suggested the other man would have done well bossing people about in the army instead of running a little-known – although highly regarded by those who did know it – tech company, and decided to save the jibe for later on when he was feeling well and truly sick of the day.

He suspected, going by the foul November weather outside, that it wouldn’t take long for him to reach that point.

“You know you’re better at this,” Hamish responded, not looking at Harry but circling the rack to look at the other side, like the jackets would look different from another angle. “You’ve always been better at shopping than me.”

Harry rolled his eyes and cast around for another likely option, before making his way to some shelves of folded shirts. “That’s not a real thing one can be better or worse at. That’s like saying I’m better at eating… bread.”

Hamish looked at him, then did a deliberate once up and down with a raised eyebrow, which turned into a grin as Harry made a scandalised face at him.

“I thought you wanted my help?”

“I do, lovey,” Hamish said, drifting back over to Harry. “I trust your opinion implicitly.”

Harry held up the first shirt to hand without taking his eyes off Hamish’s and said, “Buy him this.”

Hamish looked at the shirt, then back at Harry. “I have revised my opinion.”

Harry looked at the shirt, grimaced at the orange collar and almost dropped it back on the shelf. It would have been good for dramatic effect, but the retailer in him couldn’t do it.

By mutual agreement they left the shop not long after, then trawled through a series of ever-increasingly odd ones. By the time they got to Hamish holding a cat-shaped landline telephone up and asking Harry, “What about this?” Harry was absolutely done, at least until they had refreshed themselves with tea and cakes.

“Do I think your boyfriend wants a telephone shaped like a cat?” Harry replied, as though this were a reasonable question instead of one borne of desperation. “Hmm. Have I recalled correctly a story about him single-handedly saving a family of cats from a life trapped at the top of a telephone pole?”

“You’re right,” Hamish sighed, putting the phone back down, “it would only remind him of the ones he couldn’t save.”

“Tea,” Harry said firmly, catching Hamish’s eye just before the other man picked up a brightly-coloured box of god-knows-what.

“Tea?” Hamish repeated. “That’s dull.”

“Not a present for James, poor recompense for me,” Harry said, though he was fairly sure Hamish already knew that, and turned to leave the shop, trusting Hamish would follow if he didn’t want to be left to do his stupid shopping alone.

They were almost at the tea room Harry liked best in this area, which was pretentious to the point of disappearing up its own arse but sold the most excellent blends of tea, when Harry’s attention was drawn to the window of a toy shop.

It was hard, in fact, for one’s attention not to be drawn to it; the entire shopfront, from the sign to every single item in the window, was bright and garish and loud, perfectly designed to lure easily manipulated children and their tired parents in. It was the polar opposite of his own shopfront. Despite that, what had made him pause was not the overall too-many-E-numbers effect, but a specific toy tucked to one side of the window.

It was a set of stacking blocks, pleasantly decorated and which looked to be made of wood. What made them charming was the fact that they each had a cut-out on one side so as to make an entrance for a different little animal to sit inside.

Harry could envisage vividly Daisy playing with them; stacking the blocks up, knocking them down, hiding the animals in their little houses and taking them out again. The set combined two of her current greatest passions; she still hadn’t words for ‘drink’ ‘thank you’ (or ‘ta’ as Eggsy put it to her, which Harry almost always managed not to cringe at) or even Eggsy past ‘Gy!’ but she could quite confidently say ‘bock’ for blocks and make passable attempts at ‘cat’ ‘doh’ (dog) and ‘eep’ (sheep). Sheep seemed to feature quite prominently in things marketed to children, despite the fact that many inner city children would go years if not decades without ever seeing one.

“I’m no’ buying him a robot dog,” Hamish said, gesturing to the selection of such in the display and pulling Harry out of his reverie. When Harry didn’t respond, he said, “What are ye looking at?”

Harry gestured to the blocks. “Those,” he said. “Daisy would love them. I’m going to buy them.”

He started towards the door, pausing briefly at Hamish’s laughter from behind, but continued into the shop undeterred.

“Is it her birthday?” Hamish asked they moved slowly through the shop, Harry looking for the most likely place for the blocks to be.

“No,” Harry answered as they reached what appeared to be the baby aisle, and he started to hunt the shelves.

“You’ll spoil the wee lass,” Hamish said.

“She’s not even two yet,” Harry dismissed him. “She’s not old enough to be spoiled.”

“That sounds like a dangerous way to sleepwalk into spoiling her…” Hamish said, and Harry ignored his warning tone completely, smiling as he found the set he was looking for.

“Look at you,” Hamish said as they stood in the queue, “buying your wee boyfriend’s bairn a present just for no reason. You’ve been domesticated, Harry.”

Harry gave Hamish his most reproving look, which had absolutely no effect whatsoever. “He is not my _wee_ boyfriend,” Harry said, and as Hamish opened his mouth again, “and if you want my help to find _your_ boyfriend something better than a fucking cat telephone, you’ll shut up now.”

He heard a loud muttering from behind him, along with a childish giggle, and glanced behind Hamish to see the unamused frown of the teenager manning the till. Right. Toy shop. Children.

“Apologies,” Harry muttered to the shop at large, except actually to the floor, and reined in his impulse to box Hamish in the arm to stop the man’s body vibrating with silent laughter next to him.

* * * * *

In retrospect, Eggsy should have seen this coming.

It had been a lovely, simple evening up till now. Harry had made dinner in Eggsy’s kitchen, and he’d even stopped commenting in what he thought was a helpful way about the lack of ‘proper’ utensils for it, since he’d started just bringing new versions of his own. Eggsy had tried to help, even, getting a bread maker on a whim from Argos while ordering Christmas presents for Daisy, but Harry had looked almost constipated as he said, “Oh, lovely,” so he’d just given it up as a bad job and returned it. Harry would have to sort out the kitchen to his own preferences, and Eggsy would just try to get whatever ingredients they might need.

They’d not long put Daisy to bed and settled themselves on the sofa for a good involved snog and maybe something more, if Eggsy was lucky, when the door knocked. He knew from the knock who it was.

Eggsy frowned as he extricated himself from Harry. “You’re not expecting anyone?” Harry asked.

“Nah,” Eggsy said, and opened the door. He was right. It was Jamal, but with him were Ryan and Brandon as well.

“All right?” Eggsy said as the lads stepped in without waiting to be asked. He realised with a start that four months ago he wouldn’t have even blinked at that, and now he was starting to think of it as bad manners. He needed to spend more time with his mates, although preferably not when he was expecting to spend the evening with Harry.

“All right?” Eggsy heard Jamal say as he shut the door, voice directed across the room, and turned to see Harry leaning round slightly on the sofa to see who was there. He was pleased for a half-second that Harry hadn’t immediately got up to get his jacket and leave, though he took in a breath when Harry got to his feet, obviously waiting for the boys to reach him before offering his hand because Eggsy was gone on him, but he was at the end of the day still a stuffy old tailor in a lot of ways, and this clash of worlds was just… well, it was going to happen some day, but he wasn’t prepared for it right now.

“Good evening,” said Harry pleasantly, and Eggsy shouldered past Ryan to get back to him, then just sort of hovered awkwardly at his elbow.

“Harry, this is Jamal, Ryan, Brandon,” Eggsy said, gesturing to each of them in turn. “Lads, this is Harry.”

“Harry,” Jamal said, drawing the word out like it was a revelation and he hadn’t known a hundred per cent who Harry was the second he’d set eyes on him. Wasn’t like Eggsy was hanging out with many blokes in their fifties, expensive shirt sleeves rolled up and collar undone on his sofa on a Thursday night. “Heard a lot about you, bruv.” He stepped forward as he spoke.

Eggsy rolled his eyes. He might, if Roxy was to be believed, have spoken a bit more about Harry than he probably would have at the beginning if he hadn’t been falling for him without realising it, but he’d tried to keep things pretty casual since then, and that was weeks ago now. It wasn’t until two days ago that he’d finally got up the nerve to tell Jamal (and by extension the others) the true state of things, although only over text because he was still a bit of a coward. Jamal had been really cool about it, because he wasn’t Eggsy’s best mate for no reason, but he knew that wouldn’t be the end of it.

“I’ve heard about you all too, of course,” Harry said, holding his hand out and not blinking as Jamal took a full two seconds to stare at it before deciding to shake it. Eggsy wondered which of them might be trying to prove their masculinity through crushing the other one’s hand and decided he didn’t want to know. “Are you joining us?”

Eggsy held back the smile that wanted to break free at Harry’s fucking effortless class and charm.

“Yeah, we was just in the neighbourhood,” Jamal said, as Ryan and Brandon both stepped past everyone to take seats, like Jamal shaking hands with Harry was a proxy greeting for them too, the muppets. “Thought we’d see if Eggsy wanted to come the pub.”

“Told you I was stayin’ in,” Eggsy addressed this to Brandon after he, Harry and Jamal all took their seats, Eggsy in the middle of the sofa with Harry at his left. Jamal had taken the armchair, possibly so he could stare Harry down most effectively, while Ryan was on the other side of Eggsy and Brandon had taken a spot on the floor which he often took to play with Daisy (or her toys, Eggsy wasn’t completely sure). “Can’t bring Daisy to the pub.”

Brandon shrugged and looked at Jamal with a wide-open expression, because he couldn’t lie to save his life.

“You could bring her,” Ryan said. “She could sleep in the pushchair.”

“Nah, bruv,” Eggsy said, not bothering to hide his eye roll.

“Well, we can hang here for a bit then, yeah?” Jamal said, and Eggsy heard it as the challenge it was.

“Course,” Eggsy threw out, and he felt bad about not even checking with Harry first, but he knew if he did the others would see it like he had to check with Harry before doing anything, like his mum did with Dean, and that was so far from the truth he figured it was easier to apologise to Harry later than it was to try to convince his mates Harry wasn’t like that now.

There was an awkward pause. “Drinks?” Harry filled it.

“I’ll get them,” Jamal said, immediately standing and going to the kitchen, and Eggsy shut his eyes briefly and bit back a groan. Harry was a gentleman, that was for sure, but he didn’t know how long it would last in this weird pissing contest over his attention or who was allowed to treat his flat like their own, or whatever else.

Fuck it. Eggsy mentally gritted his teeth, leaned back on the sofa and deliberately lifted Harry’s arm, draping it over his shoulders. He couldn’t see Jamal from where they were sitting but he stared at Ryan, then Brandon, daring them to comment. He hoped Harry’s face was relaxed. His arm at least seemed to be, as he gave Eggsy a little squeeze on the shoulder then let his hand drop there.

Ryan blinked back at him, obviously not quite sure what the issue was meant to be. Brandon full-on grinned at him, so Eggsy allowed himself to relax a little bit at that, at least until Jamal came back. Jamal’s expression didn’t change at the sight of Eggsy and Harry getting cosy, but he was still clearly in grilling mode, so that didn’t help.

“So you’re a tailor?” Jamal said to Harry, and Eggsy wondered where the hell he was going with that opening because he knew full well Jamal knew as much about tailoring as Eggsy had before he walked into Kingsman.

It took twenty minutes before someone (Eggsy missed who, because he was checking on Daisy) suggested poker, and Eggsy came back from the bedroom to find them passing out chips and Ryan doing his special shuffle that he was still really proud of even though he’d learned it when he was ten and hadn’t learned any more since.

“I refuse to play for money,” Harry was saying as Eggsy dropped back into his seat, taking a pile of white chips from Jamal. “I’ve learned the hard way it feels less like a game when you end it considerably poorer than when you started.”

Eggsy wasn’t sure if Harry was telling the truth, or if he was just being nice because he knew full well he could afford to lose several hundred quid in one night, while the lads would miss a tenner, but it didn’t really matter either way because, as usual, Harry was smooth with it.

The game made things easier, since there was now a shared focus which wasn’t Harry or Eggsy. At least, it felt like it did, up until the point that Harry quietly won the fifth of seven hands so far. Eggsy grinned at him, joining in Harry’s good fortune before suddenly remembering the situation, and glancing at Jamal.

Jamal was looking at Harry with his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything.

“Deal,” Eggsy said to Ryan, without taking his eyes off Jamal, and they began again.

Another few hands in, Eggsy was losing horribly, since he was using most of his attention trying to read the room for what they were thinking about each other rather than their cards. After folding – again – and watching Brandon win with a flush, he got up and announced a break.

“Gotta check on Daisy,” he said. “Harry, come with?”

Eggsy didn’t look round as he heard Ryan catcall and Brandon say, “Oh, is it that kind of break? How quick can you make it?”

He very definitely did not look round as he heard Harry answer, “Quick as you like, but that’s not the way I like to do things.”

He just about waited for Harry to enter the bedroom behind him before shutting the door on Ryan’s, “Wash your hands after, mate!”

Eggsy faced Harry in the dim glow of the nightlight, after glancing to check that Daisy was still asleep, which he’d known she was because the baby monitor was still out in the main room, emitting her tiny snuffles. Suddenly gripped with an excessive level of panic, Eggsy grabbed for the transmitter and switched it off, checking it again before placing it carefully back on the bedside table.

Harry was looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“’m sorry,” Eggsy said, winding his arms around Harry’s middle and putting his head on Harry’s shoulder, breathing better already as Harry put his arms around Eggsy in return.

“What for?” Harry asked.

“Them lot,” Eggsy said, in a tone that said it was obvious. “Swear I didn’t know they was gonna try and pull this.”

“What, come to your home and try to spend time with you? How dare they? What rotten friends.”

Eggsy raised his head to look at Harry then, not sure exactly what he was taking the piss out of.

“Jamal’s tryin’ to kill you with a laser stare,” Eggsy said, because maybe Harry needed this pointing out. “Not that he’s got one.”

“Well, that’s the main thing,” Harry said, easily, and Eggsy just frowned at him then.

There was a pause before Harry said, “Do you want me to be upset?”

“No!” Eggsy said. “Course not. I just… I wanted this to be a bit less, y’know, intense.”

Harry shrugged a shoulder. “I suspect Jamal would always be this intense,” he said. “I can understand him being protective.”

The thought made Eggsy feel weird; on the one hand it was good to know Jamal had his back; on the other, he never would with a girl, not like this, even if she was a major skank.

“It’s got to happen some time,” Harry continued. He looked at Eggsy, looking uncertain suddenly. “I want to be part of your life,” he said. “All of it. Is that all right?”

Eggsy drew a breath; said, “Fuck yeah,” on the exhale. He leaned up to press his lips firmly to Harry’s. “All of it, yeah,” he agreed, and had a mad two second daydream about throwing a party at his where everyone he knew came and met Harry and were totally charmed by him. “I love you,” he said, not even processing it until Harry smiled back at him wider.

He realised instantly that he’d been worrying for nothing before, when he’d wondered if the words would feel scary when he finally said them out loud to Harry. It was the opposite; instead they made him feel at peace.

It was that peace that gave him the strength to take Harry’s hand and say, “Right, let’s get back to the one-man firing squad.” Whether Jamal ended up liking Harry or not, he was gonna have to learn to live with him, because Eggsy wasn’t letting him go.


	11. Chapter 11

“Oh, mint,” Eggsy said, eyes lighting up as Harry approached their table in the café, clearly spotting the cakes balanced carefully on Harry’s forearms, as his hands were full with their drinks.

“No, banana and chocolate chip,” Harry said, smiling when Eggsy rolled his eyes. He set the tea down and let Eggsy take the cakes.

Eggsy flipped over the banana one to look at the back of the packet. “Do you think it’s all right for Daise?” Harry looked at him, unsure what he meant, as he sat down next to Eggsy. Daisy was in her pushchair on Eggsy’s other side, playing with Harry’s house keys. Apparently they were a lot more desirable than Eggsy’s, since there were rather more. “Not too much sugar?”

“I really haven’t the foggiest,” Harry replied, reaching for the chocolate chip cake. “I daresay none of this is particularly healthy.”

Eggsy wrinkled his nose, looking at the packet again. “Well… it’s got banana, innit? Fruit.” He shot a grin at Harry.

“At the very least the artificial flavour of fruit,” Harry agreed, watching Eggsy open the packet and break a bit of the cake off to hand to Daisy. He opened his mouth, but closed it again, smiling, as Eggsy read his mind and used the opportunity of Daisy’s distraction by cake to retrieve Harry’s keys and pass them back to him.

They sipped their tea and ate bits of cake in comfortable silence for a little while, mainly enjoying the warmth of the café rather than anything else. It wouldn’t have been somewhere Harry would have chosen as a specific destination – the tea was barely passable – but as autumn gave way abruptly to winter, it was a welcome port in a (so far metaphorical) storm.

“Did you finish the forms?” Harry asked, reminded suddenly as a young lady walked past their table with a heap of papers in hand. Eggsy had spent the last week and a half complaining about the amount of paperwork he’d been asked to complete for the Special Guardianship Order assessment, which seemed to them so far to be a more bureaucratic version of the viability assessment.

“Forms?” Eggsy asked vaguely, as he picked bits of cake out of the bottom of Daisy’s pushchair. “Oh, yeah. Gave ‘em all back yesterday. Took me bloody ages. You’d think they was hirin’ me for MI6 or something with how much detail they wanted.”

“Well, I suppose it’ll help to know you’ll be clear to work as a spy if you so wish in the future.” They shared a smile.

“You know she asked me _again_ if we was being assessed as a couple,” Eggsy said. “Actually, she said, ‘Is Harry not here?’ and I was like, ‘Nah, he’s at work…’ and then she asked. Like she couldn’t remember.”

“Is that a good sign or a bad sign?” Harry wondered.

“What, that she ain’t got no memory? Good if I fuck anything up I suppose.”

Harry smiled and picked up Eggsy’s hand to kiss it, his smile widening when Eggsy reacted as predicted and became bashful but also clearly delighted. “I highly doubt,” he said, lowering the hand but keeping it in his, “by this point that you are going to ‘fuck anything up’.”

He was quietly pleased when Eggsy didn’t, this time, contradict him, try to press that he might, there was always time. His confidence had increased exponentially in the few months they’d known one another.

“I s’pose it could be either,” Eggsy said, going back to Harry’s question. “I mean, if she assumes we are and she’s going off Junior’s report, then that’s good, yeah? Or maybe she thinks we should be because Junior said it was a good relationship and she thinks if we’re not, there’s gotta be a reason for it…”

Harry regretted asking the question. “I don’t suppose we’ll know,” he said, before Eggsy could overthink it further. “As with Junior’s assessment, all we can do is present our best selves and wait for the outcome.”

“Yeah, suppose so,” Eggsy said, absently chewing on his thumbnail until Harry gently tugged his hand away. He at least sounded contemplative rather than anxious or morose.

“When’s the last session? Next week?” Eggsy nodded in reply. “Good.” Harry meant it. Whatever the outcome, he felt Eggsy would be more relaxed without the constant sense of being scrutinised. The tension that had been apparent in him whilst Junior was meeting with him had dissipated markedly in the lull following the end of their regular weekly sessions, but some of it had returned when the _third_ social worker had arrived to complete the new assessment (or seemingly the same one in different wrapping).

“Mm,” Eggsy said. He glanced down at Daisy, then a warm smile lit his face. Harry peered past him and immediately made the same expression; Daisy had fallen fast asleep, a piece of cake still in hand.

Eggsy shifted suddenly, raising his hip off the seat, and tugged his phone out of his jeans pocket. Harry averted his eyes politely as Eggsy considered whatever notification he’d received.

There was a considerably long pause before Eggsy said in a flat tone, “Mum says she’s left ‘im.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose a little, though he wasn’t really surprised. Michelle had left Dean three, if not four times already to his knowledge, and Eggsy had told him after she’d come to see Daisy on Thursday she’d been clingier with Daisy than normal, talking about needing to get her baby back. He’d been surprised initially at the feeling of anger he’d experienced, hearing that, however mild, as though it wasn’t her right to talk about wanting her child back, but of course it was. Daisy wasn’t Eggsy’s, although he was wonderful with her. Daisy’s rightful place was with her mother, _if_ her mother could keep her safe.

There wasn’t much to say to the statement, anyway. Harry simply reached for Eggsy’s hand again, and Eggsy willingly put his palm under Harry’s, curling his fingers around his.

“Is she asking to stay with you?” Harry asked, as the thought occurred to him that she might, again.

“Nah. Said she’s staying with her friend.”

Harry squeezed Eggsy’s fingers slightly in acknowledgment of the answer.

Eggsy sighed, deeply, and they sat in silence for a minute or two, the mood sombre.

“Kiss me,” Eggsy said quietly, his head suddenly turned to Harry’s, and it was so unexpected that it took Harry a few seconds to parse the request.

“Really?” Harry asked, matching Eggsy’s volume. It wasn’t his own feelings that made him hesitate, rather Eggsy’s usual reticence about public displays of affection. He had, to Harry’s delight, become more welcoming of them as time went on, but they were still a fair way away from how he knew – because Eggsy had told him – Eggsy had been with previous girlfriends.

Eggsy lifted and dipped his chin sharply in response, and Harry took him at his word then – so to speak – leaning in to press his mouth to Eggsy’s, revelling in the feeling of connection above all else.

It was nothing overboard, for a café in the middle of the afternoon, but it was apparently enough to gain the attention of a woman sitting nearby.

“…in front of a _baby_ ,” Harry heard as he pulled back from Eggsy. He’d missed the first part of whatever she’d said, but he could hazard a guess it wasn’t anything positive. His stomach dropped at the thought that Eggsy had just got up the courage to do this, and at the first hurdle some opinionated arsehole had ruined it.

His eyes had gone to the ceiling as he gathered his thoughts, but they came back to Eggsy now. Seeing the look on his partner’s face, his eyebrows rose immediately. Eggsy did not look embarrassed or even upset as Harry might have predicted. His jaw was set, but the look quickly moved into something more sly.

Harry just watched, a bit player to this drama as Eggsy picked his arm up high in the air to drape it around Harry’s shoulders in a move that could be seen on the other side of the room, if anyone were looking. Eggsy looked straight at the woman who’d commented and said, louder than his voice needed to be to carry it, “’ere, what’s the baby got to do with it?” He nodded his head at Daisy, who – Harry glanced at her for a millisecond – was still asleep. “She’s ours anyway.” He tipped his head the other way, towards Harry. “He carried ‘er.”

Harry had absolutely no idea how to respond to that, and for a second was grateful he didn’t have to. The woman at the other table clearly didn’t know either, because she met Eggsy’s firm stare, tightened her lips… and said nothing.

Eggsy stared her down until she had long since looked away from them, her table-mate murmuring imperceptibly to her, and then let the tension bleed from his shoulders gradually before turning to look at Harry, with a smile. It was halfway between cheeky and nervous, and Harry could do nothing else but kiss it.

This time, there was no commentary.

* * * * *

_Daisy’s staying w me._

Eggsy sent the text as he left the court building, still in a bit of a daze. It was the last time – he sincerely hoped – he’d be here. They’d called today the Final Hearing, and the Judge had told them he was making the Special Guardianship Order.

His mum had held it together till that bit, then she’d sobbed. She was on her own, as she had been all the way through, since Dean didn’t give a shit. He had his own solicitor who ‘took his instructions’ and talked bollocks about how he knew it was for the best for Daisy to stay with Eggsy because he was deeply sorry, but he wasn’t in the right place to be her father.

Eggsy wanted to go to his mum, but they were two seats apart in the courtroom and when it ended, he felt as heavy as a sack of bricks. It took him the best part of a minute to stand and by that point his mum had fled.

Eggsy really wanted to talk to Harry, but he texted instead because he still had to get home – no, to Harry’s – and he knew when he started talking it would get embarrassing very quickly. He had no interest in being the loser crying on the tube.

Harry replied within minutes.

_I’m leaving now. I’ll see you soon, darling._

Eggsy stared at that text for the majority of the journey, because it was easier to focus on his fucking wonderful boyfriend than on the rest of today. Yesterday when Harry told him he’d asked Amos to come in for the afternoon and he was planning to leave whenever Court finished, Eggsy had told him he didn’t need to, and he knew full well how busy it was right now. He was fiercely glad Harry had just said, “Nonsense. Of course I’m going to be there for you.”

In the moments he did allow himself to think about Daisy staying with him, forever, legally being his, he felt numb about it. That lasted just up until the second that Harry answered the door with a stupid sympathetic look on his face, and Eggsy just fell up the step and into his arms, knowing Harry would catch him.

“Oh, darling,” Harry said into his hair, and Eggsy clung to him and took a deep, shuddering breath.

It was a while before Eggsy felt like he could move. Eventually, he pulled back, swiped at his eyes and looked up at Harry. Harry took his hand and said, “Come on,” and pulled him through to the front room. They settled on the sofa, Harry sitting partly sideways with the arm at his back and Eggsy angled towards him, half on his own seat cushion and half on top of Harry.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked him quietly, after a bit more cuddling.

Eggsy thought before he answered. “Fuckin’… devastated,” he said. “Relieved. Angry. Glad.” He looked at Harry, shaking his head. “Awful.” He took a deep breath. “But Daisy’s… she’s okay. She’s gonna be okay.” He felt himself tear up. “It’s not right, though. It ain’t right.”

“No,” Harry agreed with him. “It isn’t.” He hugged Eggsy to him again.

“She told ‘em she wasn’t with him no more,” Eggsy said, staring at Harry’s arm while he recalled the day’s events. “They jus’… it was too late, y’know? Nobody believed she’d stay away.” He frowned. “ _I_ don’t believe she’s gonna stay away.”

Harry kept quiet, letting him collect his thoughts. Eggsy felt another pointless rant on the same subject start to build up inside him, but he was abruptly distracted by noticing a Christmas tree in the corner of the room. It hadn’t been there last time he was here.

“It’s Christmas… next week,” he said, only just realising it. Obviously he’d been preparing for a couple of weeks already, buying some things for Daisy and putting up a couple of decorations at home that she couldn’t reach, and teaming up with Amos to convince Harry to let them decorate the shop (not because Eggsy was particularly bothered about it, but because it amused him how much Amos wanted to and how Harry got stuck between wanting to project professionalism and wanting to let his employees have their fun – they’d negotiated, in the end, a tiny tree on the cash desk and a wreath on the door, plus a tinsel explosion in the back room just because). The nearness of it hadn’t really registered though, and he hadn’t been letting himself think about the day itself too much, knowing it would either be his responsibility to make Daisy’s Christmas or less than two weeks after she’d been taken away from him, and he wouldn’t be celebrating anything.

“Hm,” Harry said in acknowledgement.

“It’s Daisy’s first Christmas where she’ll have any clue what’s going on,” Eggsy continued, “and she’s not gonna be with her mum,” and his voice broke at the end. He thudded his head into Harry’s shoulder, and Harry held him, letting his expensive jacket soak up all of Eggsy’s hot tears.

He cried until his throat hurt, and finally sat back up again knowing he must look a state and Harry’s shoulder was probably soaking. Harry kissed him, because apparently the universe wanted to be awful and wonderful at the same time.

Harry frowned a little bit when he pulled back, and seemed to be considering his words. “Do you… is Daisy allowed to see Michelle at Christmas?” he asked.

Eggsy sniffed, feeling gross, not caring. “Yeah,” he nodded. “If I want. The solicitor said, the SGO means I get to choose whenever - _whether_ \- she sees mum.” He snorted. “Or Dean. Don’t think that’ll be a hard one.”

Harry pulled a face. “I shouldn’t have thought so. So – you could invite her for Christmas day, if you wanted?”

“Yeah, I can,” he said. “I will.” He frowned, thinking about it. “I just… I don’t even know if she’ll come. She might…” He breathed a hard sigh, and decided to stop trying to guess at it. “Fuck it.” He looked at Harry, just really at Harry’s chin rather than meeting his eyes, shy suddenly. “What about… would you come?”

“For Christmas Day?” Harry asked. Eggsy nodded, still not meeting his eyes. “I can think of no better way to spend it than with you and Daisy,” he said, and Eggsy grinned, glancing up to see the warmth in Harry’s face before looking away again, still embarrassed, which was ridiculous really. As if Harry would have said no thanks, he had a better offer.

Eggsy cleared his throat and scrubbed at his face, trying to feel a bit more normal. He wanted a drink of water, but he didn’t want to get up from Harry’s lap yet. He sighed, leaning his head on Harry’s shoulder.

They sat for a long time in silence, until Eggsy said quietly, “Can’t believe Daisy’s gonna grow up with me.” He left a pause. “Poor kid.” Harry snorted a laugh, and Eggsy grinned. “Seriously though… takin’ care of her is one thing, when it’s temporary, y’know. Bringing her up, though… that’s heavy.”

“True,” Harry agreed, kissing the top of Eggsy’s head and making him smile. “But at least two social workers and one judge think you’re up to the task. And I would have to say I agree.”

It was stupid, Eggsy knew, because the social workers and the judge were far more expert on this kind of thing than Harry, but if he were honest, Harry’s opinion was the one that he believed the most.

He could do this.

**Epilogue**

Harry was standing in the front window intentionally, so he saw when Eggsy approached the house. He looked for Daisy, who was trying in vain to pull herself up on the sideboard to see into the box on top of it.

“Come here, darling,” Harry said, carefully picking up the contents of the box in one hand and shepherding Daisy into the middle of the room with the other. “Now, we’re going to play the shush game and surprise Eggsy when he comes in.”

“Ush?” Daisy repeated, and Harry nodded. It wasn’t so much a game as a tactic for soothing the frayed nerves of those who had been listening to the chatter of a two and a half year old for hours on end, but it would work excellently – he hoped – for this moment.

“Ush,” Daisy repeated in a serious whisper, and let Harry guide her into place, although she couldn’t stop reaching up towards what he held.

Harry heard the front door close firmly, and kept a loose grip on Daisy’s shoulder to try to prevent her from running to greet Eggsy as she normally would if she wasn’t with him; not that he would really have stopped her if she’d wanted to, but she seemed to be on board with the surprise for now.

“Harry?” Eggsy called, obviously a little confused when neither Harry nor Daisy gave any greeting to his arrival. Harry stayed in the front room, tense with anticipation, holding the bundle that was beginning to wriggle in one arm and keeping his fingers on Daisy’s shoulder with the other. He heard Eggsy go through to the kitchen, probably lured by the smell of the Bolognese.

“Harry?” he heard Eggsy try again. “Daisy?”

Daisy managed to keep quiet for another second or two, but the patience of a two year old could only go far and she giggled loudly just as Eggsy passed the door to the front room. It didn’t really matter, as Harry wasn’t intending to make the man search the whole house for them.

Eggsy opened the door, a smile on his face, and Harry watched his expression as he took in Harry and Daisy standing in the middle of the room, and then –

“Oh my god – is that a dog?” Eggsy asked.

“Doggy! Doggy!” Daisy chanted in delight, reaching up again to where the ball of fur was squirming in Harry’s arms. Harry obligingly went down to his haunches so Daisy could reach it, as she’d been extraordinarily patient so far.

“Careful,” Harry and Eggsy both said in unison as Daisy made grabbing motions at the dog, and Eggsy grinned as he made his way to them and crouched down also.

“Why is there a dog?” Eggsy asked, reaching his own hands out for it. Harry passed it over carefully, and it turned a wrinkly black face towards Eggsy’s and snorted. Harry saw, without a doubt, the expression of a man falling in love in an instant.

“Well,” said Harry, “we took a walk past the pet shop earlier and Miss Daisy saw this fellow in the window, and she absolutely insisted we bring him home.”

Eggsy rolled his eyes at Harry, cuddling the puppy to his chest. “They ain’t sold dogs in pet shops as long as I’ve been alive, Harry.”

Harry pressed a hand to his chest dramatically. “Ouch. That was a low blow.” He grinned again, making it clear he wasn’t actually upset in the slightest at the implication that his references were significantly out of date. “All right. Well, I thought… happy anniversary, darling?”

He was suddenly just a little bit unsure, in a way he hadn’t been throughout the whole planning and execution of this present. Maybe it was a bit overboard to buy a man a dog without telling him first, even if Harry was going to be at least partly responsible for it. His fears, though, were quelled when Eggsy reached out the hand that wasn’t holding the puppy, grabbed Harry by the shirt and pulled him close for a kiss.

Daisy giggled next to them, and Eggsy pulled back abruptly, likely because she’d made contact with the dog. “Gentle, Daise,” Eggsy said, taking her hand and showing her how to stroke it properly. “Harry,” he said, looking up as soon as Daisy was following instructions, “you’re ridiculous. And wonderful. And ridiculous.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry beamed at him.

“All I got you was a card,” Eggsy said with a little laugh, standing carefully with the dog still in his arms.

Harry gestured him out of the room, and their little party made its way to the kitchen, Daisy jumping next to Eggsy the whole way to try and keep the dog in her sights. “Well, I will admit,” Harry said, “the dog is partly a present for me, too.”

“Give over,” Eggsy said, cradling the dog impossibly closer to him and pouting at Harry. “He’s mine. Aren’t you, handsome?” He crooned at the dog, who looked at him with its little bug eyes, snorted and then licked him on the nose.

They sat down to dinner not long after, having carefully placed the puppy in its own brand new bed and crate in the corner of the kitchen where it could still see them (not that it kept its eyes open longer than a minute) and which Harry was fairly sure Daisy would be begging to sleep in tonight. She kept kneeling up on her booster to see the puppy better, and sat down again whenever she was told to, only to forget in her excitement moments later and kneel back up again. She wasn’t eating much spaghetti, but the table was being very well decorated.

It was almost three quarters of the way through the meal when Eggsy said, “Hang on. Did you make this special?”

Harry smiled at him. “I wondered if you were going to notice.” Eggsy rolled his eyes, grinning. “I know that wasn’t really our getting together, but it was at least the start of something. I felt it deserved marking.”

“You’re a sappy old fool,” Eggsy told him, not for the first time, and Harry did nothing to dissuade him of the notion, but leaned in to kiss him instead.

The kiss went on a bit longer than planned, so it wasn’t a surprise when Daisy noticed their attention had wandered and said loudly and demandingly, “Daddy ‘arry!”

They pulled apart, Harry trying to look sternly at Daisy and, he knew, utterly failing. He glanced at Eggsy then, wondering if they were still meant to be correcting her, but Eggsy just looked fondly at him, then Daisy, and shook his head before going back to his meal.

Daisy still called Eggsy by his name – after a fashion. ‘Gy’ had been upgraded to ‘Gee-gee’ and although she could probably make a passable attempt at the whole word now, nobody was much bothered to make her try. Harry, on the other hand, had skipped straight from no name (just outstretched arms and, “Uh!” when she wanted his attention) to ‘Dada’ and when, alarmed, both Eggsy and Harry had tried to correct this to ‘Harry’, it had morphed into ‘Daddy ‘arry’.

It seemed Eggsy had given up entirely on attempting to change Daisy’s mind, and although there was still a part of Harry that was worried about the implications, there was another part of him, inside his heart, where the name settled itself and warmed him from the inside out.

They retired to the front room after dinner (and Daisy’s much-needed bath). Normally these days Eggsy was very hot on making sure she went to bed straight after her bath and fell asleep there, even if that meant falling asleep in her travel cot in Harry’s bedroom and being transferred out of it later into her pushchair for the journey back to Eggsy’s. That had been happening less and less recently, with Eggsy electing to stay over far more nights than he didn’t, and Harry had been idly wondering whether to take the bed out of the guest room entirely and redecorate it for Daisy alone, or whether Eggsy would want her to remain in with them for a little while longer, in a bigger bed. He felt she would probably enjoy having a room of her own, as she was such an independent little thing, but it wasn’t his decision to make.

Tonight, however, not even Eggsy had the heart to make Daisy go straight to bed when there was a brand new puppy in the house, so they all piled onto the sofa, Harry and Eggsy taking turns at making sure Daisy didn’t upset the dog and neither the dog nor Daisy accidentally fell off the sofa in their excitement.

“What we gonna name it?” Eggsy asked.

Harry went to speak, but Eggsy interrupted him before he could, eyes suddenly wide. “Wait. Merlin told me about that dog you had that you called… what was it, Pickles?”

“ _Mr_ Pickle,” Harry corrected, deliberately raising his chin in faux-outrage. He still wasn’t sure if Hamish and Eggsy becoming close enough friends that Eggsy had given Hamish a nickname (for being a technical wizard, apparently) was a good idea, but it was a bit late now. They had their own WhatsApp group with Eggsy’s friend Roxy that Harry wasn’t allowed to be a part of. Every time he tried to ask why, one of them would tell him he was being possessive and needed to calm down, before immediately using their phone to presumably message the others in said group to laugh at him. He wasn’t entirely sure that the group hadn’t been made solely for the basis of that joke, and suspected Hamish in that case to be the ringleader.

Eggsy just rolled his eyes, and scooped the dog off the arm of the chair to plop it back into Daisy’s lap between them. “You have lost all naming privileges, bruv.”

Harry smiled at him, then realised there was a strong chance the dog would end up being named Adidas or something of that ilk. He decided even if he wasn’t able to vote, he could at least play a very strong persuasion game.

They didn’t pick a name before Daisy eventually fell asleep on Harry’s lap, and he took her up while Eggsy took the dog outside to try to encourage it to go to the toilet. From the, “Aw, man!” he heard as he reached the top of the stairs, he assumed it hadn’t quite gone to plan.

Once Daisy was tucked up in her cot and the puppy was tucked up in its bed (Harry peeked into the kitchen and saw that yes, Eggsy had actually put a blanket over it), they reconvened on the sofa.

“Can’t believe you bought me a puppy,” Eggsy said as they cuddled together, a smile laced through his words. “That’s so cliché.”

“Ah yes,” said Harry, “gold for fiftieth anniversary, silver for twenty fifth, a dog for the first. I remember now.”

Eggsy pulled a face at him. “Yeah, yeah. You know what I mean. ‘sides, we’re not even married yet. Maybe you jumped the gun on the dog.”

It was just a joke, Harry knew, but he couldn’t help his heart giving a little jump at the ‘yet’ in that sentence. They’d not even spoken of it, not really, but somehow… he could see how it might one day be an actual possibility.

His younger self would have been equally amazed and appalled.

“Anyway,” Eggsy said, shifting a little in Harry’s arms, “I did kinda get you something. Not a dog, though.”

“I’m glad for that,” Harry said immediately. Eggsy smiled.

“Yeah… so, you know I said I was goin’ to see Jamal?”

“Yes?” Harry replied.

“Well, that was a lie,” Eggsy said baldly, and Harry smiled at his openness. “I actually went to see Smithy.”

“Smithy…” Harry searched his memory. “Your landlord?”

Eggsy nodded. “Yep. Told him… told him I wasn’t gonna need the place no more.”

Harry watched Eggsy look up at him, his eyes widening as he pulled his lower lip slightly between his teeth. The look was distracting and it took him an extra second or two to parse the sentence.

“Oh,” said Harry, when he did. “Oh!” He smiled widely. He thought for a second about teasing Eggsy, talking about him going to stay with one of his friends, but knew Eggsy needed his reassurance right now, even though they’d talked about this several times. “You’re staying then?”

Eggsy nodded, slowly. “If you’ll ‘ave us.”

Harry raised his face to the ceiling, pretending to think about it, laughing when Eggsy hit him lightly in the arm. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I rather think it’s been a bit of a nightmare, having you here.”

“Tough shit,” Eggsy returned, tugging Harry’s arm around him more firmly, as though they could get any closer. “No backsies.”

They settled into a comfortable silence for a little while, Harry enjoying the warmth of his partner and the background noises of Daisy occasionally shifting position upstairs over the baby monitor and the pug in the kitchen doing the same. Normally by now they’d have the TV on, or one or both or them would be reading or using their phones or tablets, but it was nice for a short while just to sit there and enjoy one another.

Eggsy stretched, then settled himself back down. Harry glanced at him, smiling. “I dunno,” Eggsy said, to the room at large. “A live-in boyfriend, a surrogate daughter and a dog.” He looked up at Harry with a smile. “Bet you didn’t see all this coming when you hired me.”

“Not quite,” Harry agreed, pressing a kiss to his partner’s lips. “After all, it’s terribly unprofessional.”

Eggsy grinned at him. “Good.”

Harry could only agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. Guys. This is it. The end!
> 
> I am so stoked so many of you have been reading along with me and enjoying this. This is by far the longest fic I’ve written in years (maybe over a decade), and I wasn’t altogether sure I would manage to keep it going, but I bloody did. Part of that for sure was knowing that other people out there were enjoying these lovesick fools and their drama just as much as I was, so thank you all for that.
> 
> I thought when I planned this it was going to be 30,000 words. Evidently Harry and Eggsy had other ideas. 
> 
> By the way, I know Eggsy’s line about not having sold dogs in pet shops as long as he’s been alive isn’t correct (although I really didn’t know how incorrect until I googled it – how the hell has that law only been passed in the last couple of years?). But I’ve never seen any in my lifetime and I’ve been in plenty of pet shops, so I feel it’s likely Eggsy would believe his statement to be true, as I did.
> 
> The whole epilogue in fact was going to be very different – there was no plan about JB, believe me – but as usual these crafty bastards came to life and ran away with my keyboard. I do hope you’ve enjoyed what they made.
> 
> Innnn conclusion, it has been a ride, and I hope you’ve liked it. Peace out and stay safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is more than welcome.


End file.
